


between the shadows (and the soul)

by AngelicSentinel



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Conspiracy, Cryptography, F/F, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Guns, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Link, Mind Meld, Mind Sex, Plot With Porn, Sexual Fantasy, badass parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 94,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6915667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicSentinel/pseuds/AngelicSentinel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most recent jewel that Kid stole has an unusual ability. Shinichi finds out the hard way when he just wants to spend a little time with himself. But as the link between them grows, Shinichi and Kaito discover they may have more in common than they thought.</p><p>Though the Black Organisation is supposedly disbanded, someone in black has been taking potshots at them both, and the jewel from Kid's latest heist may not be what they thought it was:</p><p>What exactly is the legend of Sinister and Dexter? And what does it have to do with Pandora?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Connection

The Tiffany Yellow diamond was on loan to the Beika Museum of Natural History to celebrate the Japanese premiere of the remake of _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ as sort of an apology to the Japanese or something. Kuroba Kaito really didn’t care. There was no way Kaito wasn’t going to go for it, not when it was so close to his own backyard. Not when it was sitting prettily at 128 carats. Not when it when came so nicely to him instead of him having to go to the United States to check it out. It was nice when private collections lent out their things. Public buildings were so much easier to get information on than private property, and therefore easier to get into.

The heist went off without a hitch, though as usual when Kudou Shinichi was there, his first appearance at a heist since his return to full size, Kaito worked more with a series of high speed on-the-wing gambits rather than any actual solid plan. Kudou was good for improving his improvisation.

And cornering him on the roof, apparently. From this height, he’d have just enough room to jump with his hang glider and catch a thermal updraft. His back was to the edge. He lifted the gem to the full moon and sighed as nothing happened. He frowned at the rip in his glove.

The diamond was well-documented. He supposed if it had something like what Pandora was rumoured to be, someone would have already known.

“Kid,” said Kudou, not even panting from the chase, which Kaito felt was a little unfair. Must be the longer legs.

“Detective-kun,” Kaito tipped his hat at the great detective.

A wry smile. “I don’t suppose you’re just going to hand it over?” Kudou asked.

“No, I don’t believe so. Perhaps later,” he turned to step off the edge of the building, and that proved to be a mistake as Kudou’s adult form was much faster and had better reach than his childish form. _Obviously, Bakaito!_ Kaito thought to himself as the detective grabbed for the gem that was still in his hand.

On instinct, he reached up to keep it out of Kudou’s grasp, causing the gem to be bathed again in the light of the moon. Kudou’s hand covered his as Kudou touched the gem through his fingers, unconsciously pressing the gem against the rip in his glove whereupon it touched his bare skin.

It grew warm in their hands, and then let out a blast of blue light awfully like a flashbang, knocking them both back. Kudou fell back towards the roof while Kaito fell backwards off the building to the terrified gasps of the crowd. In a second though, his glider’s wings opened and he soared off into the night, tucking the jewel against his heart, not realising that it pulsed with his heartbeat.

-

Shinichi sagged down on the bed, not even bothering to do anything but throw his towel to the side, leaving him naked. He usually slept in full pajamas, but tonight, he just couldn't be bothered to dig them out.

He was so tired. He’d come across two complicated murders, and then he'd gone to the Kid heist despite his better judgement and _that_ had ended up completely FUBAR. He tucked himself under the covers, closing his eyes.

An hour later he was still tossing and turning, unable to sleep as his mind worked on autopilot and wouldn't shut off, running through old cases, his rocky relationship with Ran (so many lies, she deserved so much better, she only put up with him because she didn’t know), his progress on the Black Organisation takedown (seriously, so many loose ends, stupid crime syndicate) and his embarrassment at how arrogant he used to act. (Definitely not good enough for her)

He turned again, this time on his back. Well, he had one option as a sleep-aid he didn't have as a kid. He threw the blankets off and spread his legs, shivering as the cool air hit his sensitive thighs.

Shinichi trailed his fingertips down the side of his face, taking his time, tracing the contours, thumbing his lip, licking his thumb, pressing against his tongue, before tilting his head back and moving down the side of his throat, where he was most sensitive. He traced the underside of his jaw, lingering, and then the crook of his shoulder, and he let out a happy little hum as he felt himself relax. Then, he moved towards his chest.

-

Kaito was almost asleep when he felt a hand ghost across his face. He jerked awake and flipped on the light, his heart pounding, searching frantically around the room. Even though he moved, the hand was still there, cupping his cheek, running a slightly calloused thumb over his lips. There it lingered, stroking the soft skin, and then a wet sensation blossomed on his thumb as he felt the thumb graze across his lips again, dipping into his closed mouth and pressing against his tongue. _Impossible._ But he felt the warmth and pressure on his closed lips.

Then it moved down, cupping his jaw, running underneath his jawbone with light fingers, and then over his throat, touching him so tenderly in a lover's caress.

As the ghostly hand, no, hands, ran across his collarbone, Kaito was starting to get a very bad feeling about where this was headed.

-

Shinichi spent a long time on his torso, feeling the lean muscle he'd worked hard for. He traced the outline of his pectorals, circling his nipple, stimulating them with a rough palm before scraping one with the side of his thumb. He mapped out his ribs, traced the hollow of his stomach, then between his abdominal muscles, back up to his ribcage, luxuriating in how his touch felt on hidden skin, how it felt to touch himself, and let the warmth from his hands spread until he tingled all over. It was so nice to let go and just let himself _feel_. He didn’t indulge often; a little more now since he’d been stuck as a child for so long.

Then it was down, down, down, down to the sharp bones of his hips and the top of his burgeoning erection, circling the skin just above. He didn’t want to touch himself, not just yet. This was all about relaxation. He had plenty of time, and he wanted to enjoy himself. Tomorrow was Sunday, after all.

-

Kaito was really starting to not care at this point. The ghostly hands were quite nimble; why they suddenly decided to start molesting him, he didn't know. He also didn't know how to stop it, but then again, he didn't want to. It scraped an invisible nail across his nipple, and Kaito arched his back. Then it moved back to exploring every inch of his chest, dipping ever lower, tracing the muscle on his stomach and the skin between his ribs.

It played with his curve of his hips for while, fingering the sensitive skin with a light touch, before dipping even further down, just over the top of his groin, where it continued rubbing circles into his skin.

He bit his lip. _Tease_ , he thought.

-

 _Tease_. The word echoed through Shinichi’s head, bringing his ministrations to a complete stop. The voice sounded familiar. Not his own, but he knew it from somewhere.

Shinichi knew it wasn't audible, that he hadn't heard it out loud, but that didn't stop him from folding his hands across himself, nervous and vulnerable about being naked in the presence of another.

 _Excuse me?_ Shinichi couldn't help but think back at the mysterious voice.

-

 _Excuse me?_ Kaito heard. The movements on his lower abdomen stilled, the ghostly hands a heady, warm weight. He moved, searching for friction, but there was nothing, and no matter how he wriggled, the ghostly hands stayed where they were. He frowned.

 _That is what you call it when you start something and don't intend to finish it, Ghost-san._ Kaito thought, pouting.

 _I was masturbating!_ the voice sounded indignant. And familiar. _I wasn't starting anything with you!_ Kaito felt his skin grow hot and his face flush with embarrassment, rather than arousal. How intriguing! _And why would you be okay with doing,_ the voice obviously couldn't bring himself to say the proper word, _THAT with a ghost, anyway?_

Kaito laughed to himself a little. He could say “masturbate” but not “sex?” Weird. _Why wouldn't you be? And thank you for telling me how this works. Most helpful. Need a hand?_ Kaito didn't let the voice respond before he made his way down his torso to where the hands still rested, reached down his loose pyjama bottoms, and palmed himself, tugging himself out and into the cold air. He was fully erect from the earlier teasing, and it didn't take much for him to wrap a hand around his cock, thumbing the slit and doing a few experimental pumps, adjusting his grip until it was just how he liked it.

_Feel that?_

-

Shinichi thought he was going to die. The voice had a firm grip, and the pressure was foreign and almost too much right there. He nearly came just from the slight touch of another's phantom hand. “Yes,” Shinichi moaned. _Yes,_ Shinichi thought, strangled voice carrying over. And then, shyly (not that he'd admit it, even to himself) he asked, _Are you touching yourself?_

 _Oh yes. Just a small taste, perhaps, of what you've been doing to me._ Then the voice started stroking, and it felt like his hand was directly touching Shinichi's own erection. (With that deep voice, raw with arousal, it was definitely a him. Shinichi found he didn't mind) _Care to join me?_

Shinichi swallowed thickly and licked his palm until it was very damp as his hands drifted down and he fisted himself, the jolt of sensation sending shivers up his spine.

 _Oh._ Shinichi heard. And then, _**oh.**_ _Do that again. Synchronise our movements._

_-_

They started at the same time, but their rhythms were just different enough to be noticeable, Kaito moving at a steady pace while the ghost was more erratic. Then again, Kaito did this quite often and was a bit of a pervert. He had so many kinks. Ghost-san didn't have any problem keeping up, and as he reached down with his other hand to fondle his balls, he didn't miss the keening white noise in his head and the tingling burn in the pit of his stomach, spreading outwards.

 _So vanilla,_ he mused, if ball play was getting him this hot and bothered.

 _What?_ The ghost said, half out of it. Kaito didn't bother to repeat himself. He wondered if they met in person would the ghost be willing to try a few spicier things?

Kaito would have stopped before they really got going, but then, Ghost hadn't exactly said no. Been embarrassed, yes, but now he felt almost eager.

 _The feedback,_ the ghost said weakly, and he was right; it was something else. It echoed in a recursive loop, a dual sensation that promised great things were they actually able to do the improbable and orgasm at the same time.

Kaito touched himself and felt himself touching himself and himself being touched by a strange hand.

Then, while Kaito was still fondling himself, a ghostly hand trailed up, back to caressing the sensitive parts of his neck, pinching a nipple, leaving thin scratches along the skin that felt _divine._

That deserved a reward.

Kaito reached over to his drawer and pulled out a half-full bottle of anal lubricant. He kicked off his bottoms and groped his own bum while the phantom hand stroked his cock, building and building with white-hot heat. It faltered for a second, as he touched himself, then carried on.

Kaito grinned, rubbing his hands together, and then he slicked himself up, ever so slowly. The hand was a little distracting, but he spread his legs, lifting himself a little from the mattress, and ran his hand between them, groping himself, taking a finger and circling the muscle before dipping it inside. It went in smoothly, and he worked it for a second before thrusting a second in for more length.

-

 _What are you doing?_ Shinichi squeaked. The voice’s hands trailed past his scrotum, would be spreading him wide if they had physical form, but he still felt that phantom touch; thick lubricant, wet and the slightest bit cold, covering his fingers and the most intimate part of him, stroking the ring of muscle before pressing deep inside; long fingers, longer than his own, pressing forward against his inner walls and sparking something deep inside him. His penis jumped to attention in his hand, precome leaking freely from the head.

 _What does it feel like? Stimulating the prostate keeps it healthy. Also, it's fun!_ The voice did it again, curling his fingers just a bit against the wall and causing another spark of pleasure to ignite deep inside him.

 _I’ve never done that!_ Shinichi thought, panicked.

 _I have. Don't worry, it's nice. I will stop if you truly want me to, but I think you're missing out._ And he did, leaving his fingers inside but no longer thrusting or pressing against the gland.

 _No, go on ahead,_ Shinichi thought weakly. It was so intense; he could feel fingers inside him, but there was nothing there, and the disconnect sparked something inside him. They were so invasive, so warm.

_-_

This was it; Kaito was working for the ghost's pleasure more than his own. He fingered himself, driving himself onto his hand again and again as the ghost picked up speed stroking them both. It wasn't going to be much longer, but he was angling for them to come at the same time—it would be _glorious._

That thought kept his hand steady even as the hand fisting his cock nearly made him lose concentration.

-

They did come at the same time, pleasure cascading and minds so intertwined neither one of them could tell who was whom. They just felt; each little pulse sent one or both of them over, starting the surge anew.

_-_

Later, as they were both panting and luxuriating in the aftermath, Shinichi decided to confront the voice. _You...you're the Kaitou Kid, aren't you?_

 _I am._ No deflecting, no smugness to the tone like he was expecting. Just a confirmation. _And that would make you my detective-kun, yes?_

 _Yeah._ A possessive? How strange.

 _I thought so. The jewel that flashed not red in the moonlight, but blue, the strange sensation I took as only of the mind. It was the only thing that's happened out of the ordinary._ A pause that felt thoughtful. _This week, at least. I’ve had worse. This was at least pleasurable._

_A jewel that lets you have mind sex doesn't rate?_

_Hmm. Hardly. Though I'd consider this more mutual masturbation. But can you imagine the resonance in person? What would happen if we were to actually touch? How you'd feel inside me, even._

_Oh god,_ Shinichi groaned at the thought, penis already twitching, spongy tissue filling with blood again.

_Oooh. Does that excite you, little detective? Me receiving? Imagine me on my knees in costume, you coming up from behind, sweeping my cape aside. Your arms around my waist, tugging at my belt, forcing me to my hands and knees while you pull at my trousers and leave me half bare. Then you slip in, hands on my hips, and take me, rough. You'd feel it both ways, taking and being taken._

_You have a very vivid imagination, Kid,_ Shinichi said, shaking and pulse racing from the imagery. Shinichi found he would actually like that very much.

_But I'd love to have you ride me as well. You on top, driving me into you again and again. I could take you over the edge of a desk, or even quietly in bed. And call me Kaito. I think we're past Kid, don't you?_

_Yeah, Kaitou. Call me Shinichi._

_With pleasure._ Shinichi didn't know how a voice could leer, but the phantom thief managed it.

_Is it bad I'm actually considering taking you up on your offer?_

_Not at all._

_I'm not gay._

_Neither am I. There's words for it you know. Bisexual or pansexual. And even so, perhaps it is only curiosity. I know you're a detective, but I wouldn't over examine._

_I love Ran._

_Ao—ahem, I too, have a woman I care dearly for._

_The secrets and lies are tearing us apart._

_I know._ And Shinichi had the feeling that Kaitou did. _It hurts. And the longer you take, the more complicated things get, until finally when the time comes to confess, you open your mouth and nothing comes out. She still doesn't know I’m Kid. And if she did, she’d hate me forever._

 _I just want to forget,_ Shinichi thought, mournful. _The things I've done to her…I don't deserve her kindness._

_I'm Kid. I'm good at flashy distraction. Besides, my little detective, perhaps my next target will be your heart. I've already stolen your mental virginity._

_You can't steal what's freely given,_ Shinichi immediately fired back without thinking.

-

 _Oh, is that so?_ Kaito purred. _I’ll keep that in mind. So tell me, Detective-kun, what are some of your fantasies?_

_Um._

Ooh, by the sound of it, he definitely had some. And Shinichi hadn't meant to give away so much. _Well?_

_This is weird to talk about, okay?_

_I love dresses,_ Kaito thought, apropos of nothing. _And wearing them. And soft silky lingerie and high heels and the feeling of smooth legs. I'd like to be taken in a dress. For the longest time, I thought it would be A—someone with a strap-on, but you'd do very nicely._

Silence. And then, thoughts so tangled Kaito could barely make them out. _Girls do that? Girls like that?_

_Oh yes, Shinichi. Some enjoy it very much._

_Um. Okay. Well, I'd, um, like to um, stimulate myself with Ran's, um…_ Shinichi trailed off, not even able to think it. Kaito could feel his embarrassment though, and he could guess well enough.

 _Oh little detective! That's dirty!_ Kaito said in delighted shock. _I can just see it now, your little lady, her heaving bosom flushed with exertion as you slip farther up instead of down and straddle her, she grabs each ample breast— she's so top-heavy, you lucky man—you put your cock between them as she traps you in their hot heat, and she’ll massage you as you thrust until you come all over her face, and she'll kiss you, deep, dripping with your semen—_

Shinichi let out a series of disjointed thoughts. _How did you know? That's!_ And then, _Mmm, yeah. That’d be something._

 _If a little unfair since I definitely can't compete there._ Kaito pouted. _I lack the parts. Tell me another?_

_Um, getting blown, I guess. So I can touch. So I can feel your face as you go down on me, your cheeks as they hollow, spit and come dampened lips, your throat as it works to swallow._

Kaito grinned. _You're assuming I'd swallow._

_You would. You're a gentleman, at least as Kid. Even with your filthy mind._

_Point to you!_

_So what about you?_ Shinichi asked.

 _Freedom. It's not so much sexual, though that is a part of it. To have someone know all of you, and not be afraid they'll accept it. To just let go and just_ feel. _It's a bit like flying in the dark. You may know the wind currents and have memorised the layout of the city, but there's always that updraft that throws you off, changes your direction unexpectedly._

 _Some people were born to fly,_ Shinichi allowed. _Is that why you steal?_ He added hesitantly.

 _Ha! I'm sure police profilers have wondered that for years. Why steal if you're only going to return it? For the show? For the challenge? For the adoration? Is Kid just a thrill seeker? You tell me. You're the detective._ Kaito wasn't having fun anymore. It always came down to this with the people in his life. Always. Why would this detective be any different?

 _I don't think so. I mean you are a showman, that's a given. You wouldn't do it if you weren't. You adore your audience. They have a good time. You do, too. But it doesn't fit. Not really. No one commits grand larceny on a whim, not without a very good reason. It’s not freedom. If anything, it clips your wings. I don't think you'd risk caging yourself for anything less than absolute importance_.

Kaito let out a breath. _That's, yeah. Close._

_Kaitou?_

_Shinichi?_

_...You’re a good person. You've helped so many times when you didn't have to. Whatever your reason is, I hope you find it._

_I’m glad you think so,_ Kaito thought, honest. _The day I do, Kid will disappear for good_ , Kaito agreed.

_You're not—_

Kaito gave a mental laugh. _No, not like that. I’ll retire, that's all. Maybe teach the next generation of reprobates. I've always wanted kids._

 _Well, there goes the neighbourhood_ , Shinichi thought at him, but there was warmth in his tone.

 _As if you don't have your Junior Detectives. Corrupting the youth over to the side of good,_ Kaito snorted.

 _Kid_?

 _Yeah_?

_...I think I want this._

_Okay~_ Kaito sing-songed. _But you have to be suuuree~_

_-_

Shinichi swallowed again. This conversation had gone so far beyond what he expected it to. He didn't know know why he was surprised. It was the Kid, after all. _I want this._ And he did. _Do you want to go for coffee, or just…?_

_The Kaitou Kid reduced to a booty call? I don't think so. When I play, it's for keeps._

That was...okay. He could handle that. It was the wistfulness he talked about freedom that did Shinichi in. Something raw and vulnerable, a piece of the thief that Shinichi knew no one ever saw. And the Kid knew that he'd been Conan and accepted it without doubting him. Believed in him wholeheartedly. Looked like a lunatic letting him help fly a plane but did it anyway. Then there was the fact that the heist gemstone linked them together and didn't qualify as something genuinely weird to Kaitou. What kind of life did he lead for that to be the case? Shinichi found himself burning with curiosity, a sharp need to know.

And maybe there was something heady about being Kid’s freedom.

_Are you going to come in disguise?_

_I can come in disguise, I can come out of disguise. I can come anytime I'm properly stimulated, really. Which hopefully there will be a lot of. After coffee._

_...I don't know what I was expecting. You're a pervert._

_Yes, thank you!_ He turned serious. _To answer your question, it depends on you. I don't have a reason for my civilian persona to meet you, and while you are perfectly noble and lovely, I don't want your reputation ruined for “aiding and abetting.” Perhaps I trust you. But perhaps I also don't want you in a position where you have to choose between me or my identity._

Shinichi tried not to feel touched by the trust of a thief, but it didn’t quite work. _So disguise it is._

_Yes. We will have to be careful. I’ll be wearing a disguise, but I won't be wearing a mask. You’ll know me when you see me. I guarantee it. That little café about four blocks down and two over from the Detective Agency around two?_

_I know the one. It’s a date_ , Shinichi said.

-

Kaito flopped back on the bed, hands behind his head. Well, this had the potential to blow up terribly in his face.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t looking forward to it, though.

 


	2. The Conversation

When Shinichi awoke on Sunday, it was with a feeling of vague excitement and more exhaustion than he felt was entirely warranted, given he just had a full night's sleep. He looked at the clock. A lot later than he usually slept. His head was blessedly clear for a moment, and then the events of yesterday rushed back to him, feeling like a punch in the gut. Had it actually happened? Had he and Kid really done _that_?

It was almost unreal. Perhaps he'd just fallen asleep and dreamed it all. That seemed more likely than it actually happening. But therein lay another problem; if it had been a dream, he'd been dreaming about sex with Kid, and that was just as—well, it was _something,_ anyway.

Shinichi wondered about it, as he put some coffee on to brew; it's not that Kid was unattractive (and really, it felt a bit like vanity thinking that) it was more that he hadn't ever considered it before. He expected disgust and there was none, just an idle sort of wonder he couldn't get out of his head. How would it feel, to kiss the phantom thief quiet and breathless, to swallow that delighted laughter and drink from him until they were both undone. And it was the thief himself that put the idea in his head. He'd intruded on his alone time and stolen it away, and Shinichi found he didn't mind, and that was what was completely bizarre about the whole thing. He didn’t mind. Doing _that_ , with Kid.

He paused as he retrieved a mug from the cabinet. Thoughts of Ran came next, and Shinichi couldn't help but wince as he poured himself a cup. Ran was sacred, in a sense. Ran was his friend, his support, his everything. She had always been there. She was safe to love. Aside from Kid’s prodding about fantasies, he never really thought about her like that. It seemed unworthy of her. In general terms, yeah, he fantasised, but the women were always faceless. It just seemed disrespectful.

Shinichi downed half the cup, then frowned at the bottom as he came to a realisation. Once, he had no problem thinking of him and Ran doing all sorts of dirty things. Not when he was sixteen.

But something had changed without him noticing until just now. Almost two years of lies and excuses that even now he was perpetuating, of stolen moments when he was _right there_ , maybe even a little resentment that he slipped so many times, and she'd never called him out on it.

I'm here, see me, he'd called, and she hadn't answered. Maybe he'd even been unconsciously doing it on purpose, coward that he was, so she _would_ say something.

And maybe at first the lies really had been for her safety, but as time went on and leads didn't come, she'd eventually ended up in just as much danger, even without the Organisation’s involvement. He’d lost track over the years and hundreds of cases of just how many times she'd been nearly shot, poisoned, stabbed, burned to death. How many times she'd been hurt. How many times she’d almost died.

It had been an excuse that held no substance. He could have told her any time after the first few weeks when he realised it wasn't temporary, that it was going to be for the long haul. Her father was a detective and had been a policeman, her mother was a lawyer; she knew how to keep a secret. She would have kept it a secret. She knew how serious some of his cases had been. She would have done everything in her power not to give him away, not to see him hurt.

Ran would have been no more of a target than she was already living with Edogawa Conan. So many times she had almost _died_. And he had chosen to continue the lie in the end, even as she stayed faithful. That said more about Shinichi than it did about Ran. He polished off his second cup of coffee and debated a third before before rinsing out the mug, placing it in the sink. He could have told her earlier. Should have, actually. The later he waited, the worse his initial reasoning seemed.

The worst part about all this was he still loved her. He always would. Even now, his heart beat for hers, forever. But it was a comfortable love, edged by bitterness, regret, and guilt.

Shinichi’s eyes widened as he figured it out. He had put her on a pedestal. She'd been his reason for staying in Japan—a major reason for returning to an adult, one of the few if he were to be honest with himself—for so long, he'd stopped seeing her as a person with thoughts and feelings and instead saw her as just an ideal.

That...was dangerous.

He walked the library and picked out his thin, leather bound anthology of Poe’s three C. Auguste Dupin stories, the framework that Doyle had used for Holmes’ observation and deduction some forty-odd years later. He was hoping to lose himself in France for a little while, but three pages into “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” and his mind was already back on Ran.

What would happen when their framework collapsed? There was only one truth, after all, and the truth would always out. She’d know he'd lied to her for years, knowingly, again and again. Trust that was strained would be broken. While he didn't think it would be enough to kill their friendship, she’d always wonder if he were telling the truth. His flustered confession had been a desperate attempt to catch air that had already escaped his grasp as soon as the pill touched his lips.

It was all his fault.

And Kid accepted. Without restraint, without hesitation. Kid never saw him as well, a kid. Just saw what he could do. Even not knowing about the APTX 4869, he saw Kudou Shinichi behind Edogawa Conan's eyes, shrugged, and just went with it. Believed in him.

And he'd helped so many times when he didn't have to. When he had no stake in things. When it would have been easier to let things go, especially as a criminal, even one with a history of returning what he stole. Kid was a conundrum, a contradiction in the best of ways, the only one ever able to match Shinichi and get away every single time.

And he was interested in him. Like _that_. Which was flattering. And confusing.

Looking at his watch, he'd best start getting ready if he wanted to be on time. It wasn't terribly far, but he hadn't done more than slip on clothing.

After a quick shower, he went to his closet and dressed in one of his better suits. He floundered for a moment on the tie, but eventually chose one that went with the dark suit he was going with today.

And then it was time to leave.

Shinichi was admittedly nervous as he walked through the door of _Solare_ around one fifty-five. He'd walked by plenty of times but had never been inside. It was a little Italian café with a theme of fine arts. Comedy and tragedy masks dotted the walls alongside random musical notes. Statuary of the Muses and other Greek gods graced the corners, and the little red-clothed tables had vine centrepieces with fake grapes. It was so very kitsch. Somehow, it was very Kid.

Shinichi cased the tables, only to find nothing. There were a few other patrons, but no Kid. Sighing, not sure what he expected, maybe he _had_ finally caved to irrationality and made the whole thing up, he turned to leave when someone with take-away crashed into him.

Food went _everywhere_ , but Shinichi avoided getting plastered with it, if only just, as he twisted and prevented the other person from falling flat on his back, catching him in a dip.

His eyes caught Shinichi's own, and very few people had that shade of blue. Now that his face wasn't covered by the brim of a hat or a monocle, Shinichi realised it was fairly androgynous, slimmer than his own, still recognisable, but like a fun house mirror. Kid really meant it when he said no masks. He wore a pair of square, rimless glasses that highlighted his eyes, making his face seem thinner and delicate, almost fey-like. The black short-sleeved turtleneck was a nice choice and went well with the slacks. Both were designer, which shouldn't have surprised Shinichi as much as it did. He looked like a model. Dressed like one, too.

“I am _so_ sorry about that,” he said softly in a quiet, even tone. Yeah, Shinichi doubted it was an accident. Kid, clumsy? No way in hell. Not a bad way for two strangers to meet, though.

“It's fine,” Shinichi said. “You all right?”

“I’m perfectly fine. My food isn't, though,” Kid said mournfully.

“I can get you lunch?” Shinichi asked. “To make up for running into you?”

“Oh no, I couldn't possibly—”

“My treat.”

“Well, if you insist,” Kid said. “I’ll eat with you. I can pay for myself, though. I'm the one that ran into you.”

Yeah, on purpose. They stood awkwardly together for a moment before one of the employees started cleaning up the mess, while another led them both to a small table in the corner just beside a statue of Eros, showing an odd deference to Kid.

“You're really good at this,” Shinichi commented as he sat down. “Been here long?”

“Thank you!” Kaitou said, obviously pleased with himself at the compliment. “And no. Just arrived myself. I really am sorry for bumping into you.”

“So what do I call you?”

“Kuroba Kaito, just for now.”

“Kaitou?” Shinichi asked. “Isn't that a bit obvious?”

“Not ‘to-u’, ‘to’” He emphasised the pronunciation, then winked and placed his hands on the table, sliding the menu over to him. “Difference!”

“Right. So you daylight as Clark Kent?” Shinichi said.

Kaitou huffed. “You’re one to talk. And we do both have capes.” He held up one long finger. They looked so strange without gloves, but it was funny Shinichi had never realised just how just long they were. “Also, I might have picked a few things up from you,” he said, tapping the earpieces. “People don't give Superman enough credit. People see what they want to. It's not just the glasses. It's posture, voice, the clumsiness, the sheer impossibility of it being someone you know. First rule of any disguise: be thorough. Second: be prepared for every eventuality. As you should well know, _little_ detective.”

“‘People see, but they do not observe.’ I do like the glasses,” Shinichi murmured, understanding the reference to Conan.

He hmmed. “I thought they might be a look you'd appreciate, seeing as how you used them yourself.”

“Are you ready to order?” A server came up and asked, seemingly unable to take her eyes off Kid. Kid smiled, enigmatic, and licked his lips.

The server's eyes flickered down, and Kid’s smile grew predatory. Shinichi also found himself unable to look away. “Just a vanilla latté and panna cotta with fudge, thank you.”

“And your...friend?” The server had an unpleasant look on her face, but she made an admirable attempt to hide it.

“Iced coffee and tiramisu,” Shinichi said, hardly bothered by the posturing. After dealing with Kogoro and various patronising adults as a child, this was nothing. It was actually fun watching Kid act; it was as natural to him as breathing. Had he not known any better, he would have seen him as the socialite he was supposed to be. The server left.

As he did, Kid said loudly in a honeyed voice, clasping his hands in front of him. “I'm so sorry, Shinichi. She's usually so nice.” He looked truly regretful. Shinichi saw the server flinch as she went through to the kitchen.

Well-played. “So they know Kaito here?”

Kid perked up. “Oh yes. Very well. You ever wonder where a kid gets his gadgets?”

Shinichi folded his arms and leaned forward. “I don't know. You tell me.”

“Che. You think so little of me, Detective-kun. No, I do what any reasonable business-person would do in this day and age with an inheritance. I invested. How else do you think I manage to keep up with the demands of the business?” He started stacking the packs of creamer in a pyramid. “All aboveboard, by the way. Don't think I didn't catch that look.”

Like in this café. “Careful, 'Kaito.’ That means a paper trail. With that and an alias...”

“Oh, but would you?” Kid leaned forward himself, taking his slender hand and covering Shinichi's own, holding it. Both of them felt the spark as their hands touched, more intense because they both felt it keenly, and Shinichi felt his face warm as he wondered if this was the hand responsible for last night. “Could you?” Kid said, dropping his voice into a lower register, heavy with want.

Shinichi couldn't breathe. “No,” he said in a near whisper.

Kid grinned. _I didn't think so._

Shinichi jumped. Kid's grin grew wider, still predatory, his eyes sparkling. He rubbed his thumb over the top of Shinichi's hand, such long fingers entangled with his own.

 _How many?_ Kid's quirked eyebrow. _Aliases I mean?_

A hum out loud. _Need-to-know. And you don't._

 _It must get hard. Takes a lot of time to establish a cover._ “I think I see what you mean now, about freedom. So many faces. I wonder,” _which one is your true one? Do you forget sometimes?_ Shinichi glanced up from their entwined hands to find Kid staring at him in something like bewilderment before his unaffected face was back. “I thought you said no masks,” Shinichi said, reaching up to thumb his cheek. “I won't pry any more. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.”

-

Thinking a detective wouldn't pry was like thinking the water wouldn't be wet. Pleased with his simile, Kaito told Shinichi as much, only for the detective to give him a sheepish, embarrassed smile.

“We’ll both have to get used to it, I guess,” was all Shinichi said. They were still holding hands, and Shinichi hadn't pulled away.

Akane shot them a consternated glance as she placed their desserts in front of him. Poor woman. Kaito dug daintily into the cream gelatin while Shinichi ate his tiramisu, downing it with strong black coffee.

Kaito took this opportunity to study Shinichi while he was paying less attention. He was dressed in a simple black suit, with a black button down and a tie that was a very close match to the band of his hat. Kaito wondered if that was deliberate and then remembered who he was studying.

Of course it was. So it was a declaration, then, one that was a little staggering with implication. How had things gotten so turned around? At first it had been a joke, at second a whim, but he always, always had the upper hand. Until now.

Even then, the coffee date had been a gambit, just another part of their play, an act on a stage, another way to match wits with one of the few people that could keep up with him. Not even Hakuba had come as close, for all he knew Kuroba Kaito, the closest thing to a true face he'd shown anyone since his father's death.

Maybe the sex would be nice, maybe it was a ploy. Kaito had little problem believing either. How could things change so much in so little time? A proposition, half in jest, Shinichi's entirely unexpected response, for all Kaito had tried to play it off and—

Intense, piercing blue eyes that scraped away all those layers. Eyes that even now pinned him over a table, quietly watching and picking him apart. Inscrutable eyes.

Always watching, even as a too-smart little boy. An opponent, a rival, the closest thing to a true friend he had—Jii didn't count, he was family, and Aoko didn't know—one that _understood_...when had he gotten so predictable?

And when had he decided to come as himself? Not as Kuroba Kaito, not as the Kaitou Kid, not as any of his disguises, but just himself. Not that it mattered. Shinichi always saw through him. For that, and that reason alone (though there were plenty more) Shinichi was _dangerous_.

What was even more so was how desperately Kaito wanted to believe in him. Shinichi had been chasing him so long, had let him go so many times anyway that maybe there really was something behind it more than wanting to hand him over to the police.

“Kaito?” Shinichi asked. Oh right. He had been staring.

“Just thinking, that's all.” It was a purposefully leading statement, and Kaito could tell Shinichi was curious, but he didn't ask. “You're cute.” It was worth it to see the detective choke on his coffee and turn red enough Kaito could almost picture steam coming off him. Deliberately keep him on edge. Then maybe Kaito could ignore how on edge Shinichi made him. Maybe not ignore, but he could deal with it better that way.

“But also about our... situation,” he said delicately. _The diamond’s center. Its heart has turned dark, clouding it. It swirls. “_ Do you know anything about the obvious,” he gestured between the two of them, “other than what we already know?”

Shinichi shook his head. “Surely people other than us have touched it before. I mean, it's had many settings over the years,” Shinichi said. “I’m sure two people have touched it at once many times, even.” _The piece presented at the museum was unmounted, but I can only recall it being worn publicly once. Audrey Hepburn's publicity stills for_ Breakfast at Tiffany's. _Set in a gold and diamond encrusted collar. The other was a mock up, I think._

_And you know this off the top of your head?_

“My mother happens to be an actress, just so you know, and that movie is a particular sore spot for her.”

“How so?”

Shinichi grimaced. “Mickey Rooney in yellowface and one of the most insulting Japanese caricatures I've ever seen. But that's Hollywood for you.”

“Ah, that explains the 'apology’ then,” Kaito said. “I'd wondered.” He brought out his phone and spent a few seconds tapping. “She's wearing gloves in the stills. Maybe they knew?”

“Skin oil can cloud diamonds and dull gold but not permanently, not internally. That's clearly whatever this is. It was a part of the character, but it could have just as easily been a reason not to touch. Are you sure it's not,” _A fake?_

“Have _some_ faith in me, Detective-kun,” Kaito said, nose up in the air, highly offended. _It's definitely an authentic 128 carat yellow diamond. Not synthetic. Brilliant. Flawless. Cushion cut. I_ _ **know**_ _gems. It's real._

“Hmm.” _A real diamond as a decoy, then? Who’d go through the effort? Something isn't right. “_ It's too well documented for this to be an unexpected side effect.”

Kaito nodded. “That's what I took from it.” _In any case, I can't return it until I figure out...this. I would, you know. It is not what I am looking for._

 _I know you’ll return it. And you mean we._ Shinichi gripped his hand a little tighter.

Startled but not showing it, Kaito realised they had been holding hands the entire time. _Yes, 'we’ I suppose, though I don't wish for you to be involved any more than you already are._

 _The sooner we fix this, the sooner you'll return it. And we're already involved._ “It's a bit late for doubts, now,” Shinichi said. “I've made my choice.”

“So you have, Detective-kun.” It was too soon to tell him about Pandora, not until he could entirely trust him, but maybe—maybe this could actually work. He found himself wanting it to.

Talk moved to lighter things after that, not quite small talk, but they spoke of interests, of magic tricks and soccer, of likes both shared and not. And then they were sliding back from the table, Kaito donning a black ball cap as they stepped out onto the street, and just walked in comfortable silence with no weight of expectation to speak. It was nice, Kaito reflected, to spend time like this, with someone so utterly unconcerned and steady.

They walked close enough their arms occasionally bumped, the streets filled with people leaving work, passing by the occasional tired salaryman in a black suit, Kaito barely paying them any attention. Neither of them noticed the tall one with lingering gaze that watched their backs long after they passed.

All too soon, they’d arrived at Shinichi’s. Shinichi pulled away and unlocked the gate, walking to the front door and leading him inside the massive house. They exchanged their shoes and moved into the library.

“So, um, how are we going to do this?” Shinichi asked, hands in his pockets. Kaito could almost taste his nervousness, it was so strong and sharp in his mind, bitter like lemon zest. But there was anticipation too, and desire, just as strong.

“However you want to,” Kaito said. They were still standing close; Kaito reached over and grabbed his hand, running his fingers over his palm, before leaning down and placing a lingering kiss on his knuckles. Shinichi sucked in a sharp breath; Kaito felt his own hand flare with warmth, a sort of sharp burn. “We can go as slow as you like, Shinichi,” And then, hesitantly. “We don't have to do this.” He wanted to, oh how he wanted to, but not if Shinichi didn't.

“No. I want this. Let me be your freedom, Kaitou,” Shinichi said, stepping forward, closing the distance, linking the fingers of their other hand together.

A gasp. Shock. Both of them stopped breathing. Kaitou because of the impact of Shinichi's words, and Shinichi because their connection reverberated with it.

And then, “Kaito. Not ‘phantom thief.’ Kite,” he said with the English pronunciation. “Written as ‘delightful’ and ‘Dipper.’ It's my real name.” He said it all in one breath. Kaitou, no Kaito, had his hand over his mouth like he couldn't quite believe what he had just done.

 _A pun. Why am I not surprised,_ Shinichi thought, still unable to speak from the shock and the enormity of Kaito’s gesture and _I thought you weren't going to tell me_ _What am I going to do with this What have I done to make you trust me so much?_

“Sometimes if you want to fly, you have to jump and trust your wings will catch you,” Kaito said aloud but his mind pulsed with _Lonely lonely lonely_ and _Please let it be true let someone finally notice let someone finally just see_ _ **me.**_ _I'd walk through the flames for just one person to understand—_

“So I'm your wings?” _I do, I see, I know. Let me be your freedom. Let me be your safety. You can unmask here. Let me know all of you. I won't turn you in, and I won't run._

Kaito made a wounded noise and grabbed him by the suit coat lapels and pushed him against the wall, slanting his lips over Shinichi’s, planting his thigh between Shinichi’s legs and nudging them aside, sliding his leg against him.

He felt the friction, oh god he felt the friction on his thigh and on his groin and bodies weren't supposed to work like that Kaito hadn't done anything special but oh Shinichi felt it, stronger than the night before, their growing arousal, double warmth spreading through his belly and suffusing his entire body.

Shinichi let out a sound Kaito swallowed with his mouth. Kaito licked at his lips, drinking from him in a wet, open-mouthed kiss that they _could feel from both sides_ and _oh god_ Shinichi kissed back, just as desperate, just as hungry, tongues tangling, bodies in perfect rhythm because they knew and felt as one and slotted together like a dream. Shinichi ground down and nearly knocked the both of them off their feet from the sensation.

It was everything that he thought it would be; no, it was better. But Kaito pulled away too soon, both of them breathless, faces heated, Kaito's coloured nicely in pink hues, poker face completely shattered. “I... sorry. I promised slowly—”

“No, no, that's okay, I want this, I do, it's just I've never, and you're,” he gestured, trailing off, not sure what else he could say.

Kaito laughed breathlessly. “In the hour of the Cock, at the house of Holmes, I will steal what's guarded between the Lion and the Scales,” he said in English.

It only took a second for Shinichi to work it out. “Hey! I'm not a precious gem!” and _Still a pervert._

“Oh, but aren't you?” Kaito said, wrapping his arms around Shinichi's waist and pulling him close. “You are.”

“N-no,” he squeaked as Kaito's hands drifted down to grope him from behind, pushing them the last few centimetres together. Shinichi was expecting something like it though, so he let him do it because really, his wandering hands felt nice. The pervert. Shinichi retaliated by rolling his hips against him, causing both of them to shudder.

“Come on,” Shinichi said, grabbing Kaito's wrist and leading him to his bedroom. They sat on the edge of Shinichi’s bed, and Shinichi trailed his hands up Kaito's bare arm. “No hair,” he observed.

“People comment less on a hairless man than a hairy woman,” Kaito said. “I could be a model, or on a swim team, or just particular about my appearance. Also, less possibility for evidence.”

“Everywhere?” Shinichi asked, shrugging out of his suit coat.

Kaito gasped in mock shock. “What a scandalous question! Do you want to find out?” Kaito said, leaning over, running a hand down Shinichi’s chest, loosening his tie, unbuttoning his shirt as he went, pinching a dark nipple.

“Ye _ah_ ,” Shinichi said.

“Mmmm,” Kaito said. He tugged at the bottom of Kaito's turtleneck and pulled it over his head, leaving Kaito in a corset. Kaito quickly undressed the rest of the way, leaving the corset the only thing on him. He was completely bare in all the ways that mattered. And yeah. Hairless everywhere. Messy sweat-slicked black-brown hair, luminous indigo eyes, an oddly vulnerable expression on his face, one Shinichi had never seen. No more masks. Kaito was the epitome of cool and confident under pressure, and rarely had Shinichi ever seen him hesitant. Kaito was waiting for Shinichi to judge him, he realised.

Shinichi couldn't. How could he? _Beautiful,_ he thought. “That’s, um, wow that works for me,” Shinichi said. “I wondered how you changed your shape,” he said, fingering the corset. “You were thinner.”

“Well, we can't all be born perfect,” Kaito said, and helped Shinichi unhook the snaps.

Once he was completely bare, Shinichi reached out, running his hands over the dips in Kaito's waist in a caress so gentle it _ached. “_ Oh, I don't know. You feel perfect. Just look at you,” Kaito shuddered, and Shinichi felt ghostly hands on his own skin, along with a strong wave of arousal. Wanting to explore a little more, he tugged at Kaito, pulling him into his lap, making him turn so they were both facing out, Kaito's back flush against his chest. His head fit neatly over Kaito's shoulder, their cheeks touching. They were of a height but Kaito had longer legs and a slightly shorter torso.

Kaito pressed a feathery kiss to his cheek. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my little detective,” he murmured against his skin.

Just for that, Shinichi pulled Kaito tighter against him, bucked his hips, his arousal pressing against Kaito so he felt the full length of him against his bare skin, with only the thin fabric of Shinichi's slacks between them. _Hey_! “Not so little,” Shinichi said, hitch in his breath. “Not anymore.”

“No, my mistake, Detective-kun,” Kaito said, voice a little shaky, “Not so little after all.”

And then hands. Coming around Kaito's arms and caressing, exploring, learning, feeling, tracing the contours of Kaito’s body, splayed to cover as much as possible. The same hands as last night, just as studious, just as lingering; the lover's touch. _Heh_. _I caught the Kid,_ Shinichi thought, triumphant.

 _So you have, great detective._ A hand brushing against one hard nipple, lingering, scraping with a calloused thumb, nipple pebbling against a palm. _What are you going to do with me?_

They paused just above his hips, and then, tentatively, moved down to rest about mid-thigh. Then Shinichi slowly dragged his hand back up Kaito's thigh. Kaito could feel Shinichi’s heartbeat jump against his back, as his own followed suit, pulse racing as he moved ever higher, the sharp bitter tang of Shinichi's nervousness back in his mouth. _Never let you go._

Shinichi reached the sharp lines of his hip pressing his hands against his lower stomach, so close, just resting. A controlled exhale, loud against his ear, like he was gathering courage, and then Shinichi moved down. His first stroke had Kaito jerking against him, pressing down into his lap, _Ah, Shinichi!_

Shinichi bucked up, the feeling too intense, coming from both sides. “Too much,” he panted. _You were right about the resonance._ He pressed soft kisses down Kaito's neck, Kaito leaning back to give him better access.

 _Slowly,_ he agreed as Shinichi tongued his pulse point, nipped the side of his jaw. He closed his eyes and just let himself feel for a moment, and then he was sliding off Shinichi's lap, taking off Shinichi's tie and shirt.

Then he pushed him down to the narrow bed, undid his belt, and unbuttoned him, hands lingering over the zipper as he pulled it down.

_Okay? Are you ready?_

Another controlled breath. _Yeah._

Kaito tugged off the rest of Shinichi's clothes in one quick movement, leaving them both completely naked. _Still good?_ Kaito asked.

_Just kiss me, damn it._

_As my precious jewel commands._ And then he straddled Shinichi, placed his hands on either side of his face, and kissed him thoroughly, turning his head so they wouldn't bump noses.

‘ _M not a jewel._

_As you say._

It was Shinichi that took initiative this time, licking at his lower lip, wet and clumsy, and Kaito opened his mouth, already showing Shinichi how it was done, mapping out his mouth, twining their tongues together.

Clever man that he was, he was already adjusting and improving. _Want me to keep going?_

 _Mmmm,_ Shinichi said, unable to articulate even in his head.

 _I'll take that as a yes,_ Kaito mused. Then he moved down, lips still locked, thrusting his tongue, and rocked against Shinichi again and again. Fireworks, intense and white-hot exploded behind their eyes as pleasure reverberated, doubled by their touch, and it was more than before, deeper than before somehow. Touch was touch, and they both felt everything, and it was too much and not enough all at once.

Precome slicking them both; hands keeping the tension—Kaito or Shinichi’s or both, they didn't know. Just waves and waves of pleasure caused by the friction, building and building and building and cresting.

It felt like free fall. Wings outspread, wild and uncontrolled and heading towards one inevitable, sudden end.

One more movement, though by which one they didn't know, and they were riding the wave of oblivion. There were stars and fire, blinding bright, and a sensation of something _more_ , something deep inside them connecting and feeling right, filling a hole in each of their hearts that neither one of them knew were there. Something slotting into place.

And then aftershock after aftershock, both coming more than once. Nerves firing, the orgasms so strong it was more than either one could bear.

They lay together as one, panting, senseless, limbs entwined and not sure who was whom. It was a half an hour or better before they came to themselves again, their emotions and thoughts separate once more.

“That was intense,” Shinichi said, once he could think again.

“Your hands; they're trembling, Shinichi,” Kaito said gently, taking one into his own.

“I—Yeah, looks like,” Shinichi said distantly, hearing his own voice as if it were far away.

“Are you okay, Detective-kun?”

“Just don't go, Kid. Don't leave me,” Shinichi said _. I've been alone for so long, even before Conan. And Ran—I’m pushing her away. I know she'd understand, but things, they'd change. How she would look at me. And I don't know if I can deal with that. “_ Stay. _Please._ ”

Kaito closed his eyes. What he did for idiot detectives. _I'll take the first train back in the morning, okay?_

The bed was a little too small for them to lie side by side, so Kaito ended up half on top of Shinichi. He found he didn't mind. Less when Shinichi's arms wrapped around him. A sleepy kiss, a surge of warmth and affection and something else, something tiny but bright Kaito couldn't even begin to name.

_Thanks, Kaito._

_You're welcome, precious._

A flash of exasperated affection. _Not a gem._

 _No. Not at all,_ Kaito thought back. _You're something better._

 


	3. The Check-up

Kaito woke sweating, exceptionally warm and disoriented. He tried to move, but his arm was asleep and half-buried under something heavy. About to panic, he opened his eyes and met a pair of soft blue ones and an unfamiliar ceiling.

“Kaito?” Shinichi slurred, shifting. “It's early. Something wrong?” The pressure eased as Shinichi sat up, causing the blanket to fall. Concern drowned the panic he was feeling, and it mixed with the feeling of safety. That was new. Kaito was pretty sure it was from both of them.

Abruptly, Kaito relaxed, shaking his arm to help the feeling come back faster. “No, nothing. Didn't mean to wake you.”

Shinichi sat up. “It was about time for us to get up anyway.” _Not used to waking up with someone?_

 _No. For a second I thought—well, it doesn't matter._ He breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly.

 _You'd been caught?_ “Here.” Hesitantly, arms wrapped around him, and Kaito let them, leaning into his touch. He let his head fall to Shinichi's shoulder, and just let himself go, just for a moment, settling his arms around his waist. He could feel concern still radiating off Shinichi, along with a hint of desire, and frowned. The emotional link felt clearer somehow, stronger, with an ever present sense of _home_ thrumming through them both. He pressed his lips to his skin, then nipped at it, following up with a press of tongue.

Shinichi let his head fall back with a moan, baring his neck. Kaito moved across the sensitive flesh, biting gently, careful not to mark where it was visible. “Isn't it a little too early for this?” Shinichi asked. The vibrations against Kaito's lips as Shinichi spoke were an interesting sensation. But Shinichi wasn't saying no, and his arms were wrapped around his waist, tracing patterns on his back, so Kaito continued his exploration, slowly this time, making note of things he hadn't noticed before.

Like the spot just below his ear. The small scar on his chin Kaito kissed gently. The shape of his lips, the curve of his jaw; it was all incredibly fascinating. The way his hair threaded through his fingers as he pulled him in for a kiss, fine and smooth. _No._ _Plenty of time._

He pushed Shinichi back down to the bed, Shinichi barely resisting, and just looked. Tracing the curve of his shoulders, the lines of his collar bones, his defined chest with its light hair. He paused for a moment on the gunshot scar on his side, rubbing the scar tissue with his thumb, before doing the same to a slight notch in his upper arm where another one had grazed him some time in the past. He laid down and kissed him there, then moved his head up to the round of his shoulder, pressing his lips and remaining there. They weren't the only scars. He traced the rest idly: a slash on the forearm, what looked like acid splatter marks on his stomach, a long cut on his forehead mostly hidden behind his fringe, and still more. So many, but...

_It's a wonder you don't have more scars._

_There've been some close calls._ Shinichi's arm curled around him almost naturally, keeping him close.

“Worst case?” Kaito murmured against his skin.

A long pause. Then finally with a lot of weariness, _Too many. But I think—I think anything with bombs. Too much potential for things to go wrong, too many people as collateral damage._

Kaito leaned up and kissed him again, softly, sweetly on the mouth, almost in apology. Shinichi returned it eagerly, opening his mouth for a deeper kiss.  _You're lucky I don't mind morning breath._ He was growing to like kissing Shinichi, how enthusiastic and hungry Shinichi always was, like he was a dying man and Kaito was his salvation.

 _Heh. Sorry. You too, as far as scars go. Gunshot wounds._ Shinichi reached up, touching the starburst scar pattern on the fleshy part of Kaito's shoulder. _More than I would expect, considering. The police don't shoot at you._ The one on his side, large calibre. A strange faceted pattern over his heart that wasn't quite a gunshot wound. Many more, on his back or hidden beneath the sheet they shared.

_No. Not them._

_Then who?_ Kaito didn't answer. Instead, he kissed down, down, down, to the juncture of his hip, hands touching everywhere, pulling the sheet back until Shinichi was bare before him.

Then without so much as a warning, he kissed just above where Shinichi's cock met his skin, the organ itself already fully hard, bumping against his throat. Shinichi's breath hitched, and Kaito could feel his own cock twitch in approval.

Humming and feeling a shallow thrust at his neck at the sensation, he did it again and again, the vibrations sending heat pouring through them.

Then he kissed the tip, Shinichi's essence bitter on his lips. He licked it off, and Shinichi's eyes dilated as he watched Kaito half-lidded, a wave of want hitting Kaito so hard he nearly fell over from the force, his entire body shaking from the feeling. He was surprised neither one of them came.

_Oh yeah, you like that, don't you?_

_Oh god yes._ _**Please,** _ _Kaito._

So Kaito took him into his mouth, slowly, gripping him at the base, swirling his tongue around the head. He wasn't surprised when Shinichi's hand came down to feel his face, tracing the lines and contours as he worked, his hollowed cheeks, his movement, Kaito’s other hand pressed to Shinichi’s hips to keep him still. He thumbed his lips, the side of his jaw to feel the muscles working.

The worst best part about it was he felt himself doing it. Everyone joked that if a man could, he'd blow himself. It was nice, but extremely weird. They clearly didn't know what they were talking about.

He trapped him against the ridges of his mouth, tucking his teeth behind his lips. He pulled out with a soft pop, only to lave his tongue against the underside, pressing a soft kiss to where it met underneath, moving back up with soft kisses before taking him into his mouth again, moving his hand so he could fondle him because Shinichi loved that.

Shinichi was clearly trying not to buck, now that his hand was gone, but he didn't quite succeed.

“Kaito!” he keened, and Kaito could feel his own coming orgasm and took it as the warning that it was, taking in as much of Shinichi as he could.

He drank all of him down, and he wasn't surprised when Shinichi’s hand wrapped itself gently around his throat, feeling him swallow, his face a mixture of awe, bliss, and something Kaito hesitated to name.

As for himself, well. It was still weird. He’d come without any physical touch, save his frantic bucking against the bed. He used Shinichi's sheet to wipe himself off.

“Blows reciprocating out of the water,” Shinichi muttered once he'd noticed.

“Or in this case, it blows nothing, rather~” Kaito chirped. Groaning, Shinichi pushed him off the bed to a startled protest, then he followed him to the floor and gave him a full body hug, legs tangling.

 _I'm glad you're here,_ Shinichi thought.

 _I wasn't too sure before_ , Kaito began, _but now, so am—_ the thought abruptly stopped. _I didn't mean to say that._ “Lie to me,” Kaito said suddenly. “Say the sky is green.”

“The sky is green…?” Shinichi said dubiously.

He shook his head. “Think it.”

“Okay.” _The sky is._ A frown, a puzzled face, a spike of frustration. _The sky is b—. The sky has green in it but it’s blue because molecules in the air scatter the light and blue has the shortest wavelength._ “What the hell?”

“Thanks for the science lesson,” Kaito said, weary in a way he couldn't explain. People lied to themselves all the time. If he couldn't do that, his method acting could be affected.

“We can't lie through the link,” Shinichi said, eyes wide. “Stories, yes. Maybes, yes. But things we know are lies—”

“Which means everything you said was true. You meant what you said. Everything.” _Why?_

 _Because we're the same._ Shinichi was leaning in, Kaito's hand against his chest. “We're the same,” he said again aloud, murmured against Kaito's lips, and then they were kissing again, slowly, tentatively.

Then Kaito's phone alarm went off. Since they were sweaty and covered with the remnants of their love-making Shinichi's poor sheets didn't manage to completely remove, Kaito went to shower while Shinichi hung his crumpled suit and went to throw them in the laundry. After Kaito got out, he took his own shower, and met Kaito in the foyer.

Kaito, dressed in his trousers from last night and one of Shinichi's shirts, met him just before he left. “Shinichi, I—” he started, but couldn't finish.

“Kaito, you're welcome here anytime,” Shinichi said, then handed him his spare key.

Kaito's throat closed and his eyes turned hot. “You're giving a thief free-access?” he asked, once he could control himself.

“Well, you've already stolen everything else. What's left? My heart?” Shinichi said, his grin belying his words.

Kaito blinked. “I can't believe you just said that.” They looked at each other for a long moment, and then they both cracked up. After they were done laughing, he pulled Shinichi into one last embrace, pulling back only a little to kiss him breathless. “See ya, Shinichi.”

Another kiss. “See you later, Kaito” Shinichi said in the space between them.

And then Kaito was walking towards the train station, heart so full he didn't know exactly how to feel. He went through the station automatically, head brimming over with everything.

The train rattled, and Kaito stood by a window, lost in thought Leaving the Kudou house was like leaving the womb, in a way. Kaito had felt safe, warm, protected, content in a way he was starting to suspect was supernatural. He and Shinichi had known each other for years, yes, had chased after each other for just as long, had helped each other and fought beside each other, but the gap between detective and thief was so wide it was almost impossible to cross as they were. Mutual respect, yes. Anything else, no.

But this was so easy. Being with Shinichi was easy. The only thing was, it was way too soon. Two days, and they were already here, at least Kaito was, some place perilously close to—well, he didn’t want to even think it in case Shinichi heard. This wasn't the cinema. Things didn't happen that fast, not with their history behind them.

So why had it? And why didn't Kaito care more? He still loved Aoko, but he knew they could never be. He hadn't fallen out of love, exactly. She was just out of his reach. That ship had sailed what with her intense hatred of Kid, and he couldn't help but be a little resentful. It certainly wasn't his fault Inspector Nakamori spent all his time chasing after him. He could just, you know, not.

He moved through the station quickly, thoughts still busy. A brief stop at his house to change into his gakuran and then it was off to school. Normally, he walked with Aoko, but all things considered he was probably better off getting there early today, not really wanting to face the Aoko Inquisition.

As soon as he walked inside the classroom though, he wanted to walk right back out. He should have skipped today. Hakuba was back from England, and he so wasn't in the mood to deal with him. Lovely. Kaito ignored him and his searching look, doodling on the desk with a pencil instead.

Aoko came in breathing heavily just before the bell, shooting him a look of surprise when she saw him sitting at his desk, chin in hand. Huh. She must have waited for him. Guess he should have let her know. But she could have mailed him as well.

Kaito was irritated, but there was more irritation than he felt the situation warranted, coupled with stress and frustration, which meant—

He pulled out a 500 yen coin and started flipping it between his knuckles, rolling it smoothly between them, then concentrated inward. _Shinichi? What's wrong?_

A feeling of surprise, and then _I'm going to be sitting makeup exams all day. I'm good for them. I know the material. I just wasn't expecting them. I wasn't told. If I hadn't kept up with my studies when I was Conan, I'd be in trouble._

_I'll leave you to it, then._

Which left Kaito back in his classroom, bored as class began. They'd already done their entrance exams for University and everything, those who were going, so really all that was left were the final exams. They were spending the last few weeks in review. Which meant classes that were somehow boring before were excruciatingly dull now. And he couldn't do anything about it.

Hakuba had also been shooting him speculative looks all morning. Was him sitting quietly really all that unusual? It was exams. He wasn't going to chance someone not making it because he was a little bored. Geez, did Hakuba really think so little of him?

Aoko too, was shooting him questioning looks. As many times as they both complained about his magic tricks? There was no pleasing some people. He ignored them both and continued working on the elaborate Escher-like tessellation on his desk. And then Akako was radiating some sort of interference with her witchiness that just had to be on purpose, since he'd never felt it before. Or it could be related to the link.

By the time lunch came around, Kaito was more than irritated by Hakuba's staring, Aoko's furtive glances, and the sick-silver aura coming from Akako that really grated on him, like persistent static dulling his connection with Shinichi. He was missing Shinichi already, and he didn't feel like flipping Aoko’s skirt. He only did it because she had a gorgeous angry face anyway.

And yeah, he was a pervert, but somehow it was a lot more fun being perverted with someone who let you. Shinichi was highly accommodating.

He was about to go poke Shinichi for a bit since surely they would let him out for lunch when Aoko came up to him. Kaito braced himself.

“Where were you this morning? It wasn't at home. You didn't come home all day yesterday,” Aoko said. “I went over to invite you for dinner, and you were just gone,” she sounded worried. Well, shit.

“I was just out, Aoko. No big,” he shrugged. “You could have called.”

“You could have called!” A raised eyebrow. “All night? And you were here early this morning.”

“You're the one that wanted to know.” Another shrug. “It was on the way.” Which was true enough, though he had stopped by home. He hadn't been planning on staying the night. “What are you, my mother? I already have one, thanks.”

“The train station is on the way,” Hakuba said, also standing by his desk, and now Kaito was beginning to feel a little caged.

He edged away from him both. “Well, yeah. Great deduction. Now go away.”

“Surveilling, were you?” Hakuba pressed. “You have dark circles under your eyes, telling us you didn't get much sleep last night. Yet, you also have a self-satisfied glow of a job well done about you, which you only get days before a heist. Your hair is a bit more controlled than it usually is, so you used a different shampoo, corroborated by the change in smell. No razors, as you have the smallest bit of hair growth on your face, so it was unplanned, but there was a toothbrush. Hotel? You spent more time out than you planned. And you did stop by your home to change. You wouldn't be wearing your uniform. Which means you wanted to avoid her.”

Kaito gave him a flat look. “No. And knowing what shampoo I use is weird. And don't start up with that stupid theory. I'm not in the mood. If I were Kid, and I’m not, by the way, then I would think I’d be clever enough to hide I'd been gone or at least make a decent excuse.”

“But you're still hiding something,” Hakuba said. Kaito ground his teeth. This was bad; and his and Shinichi's irritation was building off each other, leaving him irrationally angry. Poker face. Poker face. He breathed in.

“Kaito! If you don't tell me where you were this weekend, I'll pull out my fish charm,” Aoko said, making a threat with her trump card.

Kaito had had enough. His poker face broke, and he slammed his palms on his desk, irritation giving way to actual anger. “Geez, Aoko, you think you'd be happy I was leaving you alone for once! Now you won't leave me alone!”

“That's the thing, Kaito! Payback! You've always done things like play stupid tricks and flip my skirt, so something must be wrong—”

“For your information, not that it’s any of your business, I was with my precious gem!” he yelled. Kaito put his hand over his mouth. Damn. He really hoped the lie thing wasn't infecting him vocally. It would really put a damper on his night job.

Hakuba immediately zeroed in. “So you're confessing you're Kaitou Kid? There was a heist Saturday.”

Kaito went cold, his face shutting down because really, he just couldn't handle it today. “I know you were in England for the past little bit, so I'll put it in terms even you can understand since your Japanese is so poor. I was with my lover,” he said the last sentence in almost perfect English. “It is none of your business,” he repeated.

“Kaito, you're dating someone?” Aoko asked in something a little like shock.

“Yeah,” he said cautiously. “We went out yesterday, and it was late so I stayed over.”

Aoko grabbed the mop from the corner, jabbing it at him. Kaito dodged nimbly, somewhat expecting this. She knocked over desks. Nearly hit some of the other students as she kept after him. “Impugning on a Japanese maiden’s pure heart!” Kaito did a backflip as she nearly took off his head.

As he dodged yet another thrust, he fired back, “Oh believe me, they enjoyed it as much as I did. Magic fingers, you know.” He wiggled them.

Hoots and whistles and catcalls from his classmates, a loud “Kuroba-san got him some!” and anger from some of the boys and most of the girls.

Aoko stood there, her lower lip wobbling. Aww, damn it, he hadn't meant to make her cry. He could have put it better. His face softened, his anger fled, and he went to reach out to her, when she lunged for the mop again and swung it at him as hard as she could.

“BAKAITO!” Kaito didn't dodge in time, distracted as he was, and Aoko brained him with the mop, knocking him senseless to the floor. “I thought we were friends! Friends tell each other things!”

“To hell with this,” Kaito muttered, rubbing his head and getting up, cramming his things into his school bag. “Teach, we've got nothing but review the rest of the day, right?” His teacher nodded their head. “Great! I’m out!”

“But Kuroba-san!” they called after him.

“I’ll just ace it, anyway,” he said, waving the teacher away, and stalked out the door.

-

“What just happened?” Aoko blinked, still teary. “I've seen Kaito get mad before, but not like that. He must really like her.” She sounded bewildered, and hurt, and close to tears. Saguru knew she loved Kuroba, and until his explosion of anger, thought he loved her in return.

Saguru frowned, deeply puzzled. “I don't know.”But I'm going to find out.” Admittedly, everything he'd deduced that made him think surveillance also applied to a sexual liaison. But with whom? Nobody they knew, that was obvious, they would have said something, either by voice or action.

“It seems Kuroba Kaito has caught himself Death. Or Death has caught him,” Akako said, interrupting, startling both of them. “The dark presence threads through him and corrupts. It finally found him,” she mused. “He let himself get caught. I warned him.”

“Death!? What do you mean?” Aoko asked, panic in her voice. “She's death? Or he's going to die?”

“Yes. I find myself at quite a loss as well,” Saguru said.

“The Erinys, Tisiphone. Perhaps the shinigami, that's been said, too.”

“That sounds vaguely familiar,” Saguru said.

“I thought you knew the Classics, Hakuba-kun. For shame. Tisiphone is one of the Furies, since you English prefer the Roman. The one who calls for justice for those who are murdered.” Then Akako flipped her hair and walked back to her seat, conversation clearly over.

“Hakuba-kun, what is she talking about?” Aoko asked.

“I don't know,” he said, but that wasn't quite true. Possibly. He’d heard whispers of Beika’s Division One. Everyone had. Working Beika District was like working Detroit or Caracas when it came to violent crimes. Beika had more homicides than any other district in Tokyo. Japan, too, now that he thought of it. It also had the highest rate of solved murders in Tokyo as well, thanks to one civilian consultant: Kudou Shinichi, Detective of the East, the Modern Holmes. The one who'd been invited to two gatherings of detectives and never showed. Close friend of that hot-headed idiot Hattori Heiji, which Saguru still couldn't figure out. Saguru had never met Kudou, but he was on the lips of many officers in Tokyo HQ. Disappeared for two years and then came back with the CIA and Interpol and dismantled a huge crime syndicate with the National Police’s assistance. There had been a lot of police arrests then, and his father hadn't been too happy about the corruption.

The biggest rumour was that the “shinigami” had moved from Sleeping Kogoro to Kudou. The amount of murders that happened around Kudou was staggering.

What connection did they have? Was Kudou the lover? How did Koizumi Akako even know? Kuroba hadn't specified a sex, and there were rumours about his sexuality. Did Kudou know he was Kid? Rumors of his deductive prowess made Saguru think he had to. Then how had they met? Why wasn't Kudou trying to catch him? Because he was primarily a homicide detective? Because he had already “caught” him in a different sense? “I don't know,” he repeated. “But I’m going to find out. Teacher, I’m leaving as well!”

“Wait!” The hapless teacher called, but Saguru was already out the door.

-

Halfway across Tokyo at Teitan High, Kudou Shinichi yelped and fell out of his desk in the middle of his exam, clutching his head.

 _The hell was that?_ Shinichi thought.

 _Nothing unusual~ I just forgot to dodge,_ Kaito chirped.

_You of all people forgot to dodge! What are you even doing?_

_Spending quality time with my best friend,_ Kaito said solemnly.

_And that includes getting hit on the head?_

_It's training! How else do you think I get away from the Task Force so easily? I've had a lot of practice!_

_I suppose that makes sense. But I felt a lot of anger and hurt, and I know this exam is frustrating me and that can't be carrying over nicely. You okay?_

Kaito didn't answer him for a long time, and that was telling enough. He'd talked around it, so all of what he said was true, but he wouldn't be able to lie directly.

 _I'm coming by,_ Kaito said at length.

_I'll be a little late. Got an appointment. Be there as soon as I can. Let yourself in._

_Don't I always?_

“—ou-san? Kudou-san? Are you okay?” The teacher supervising him was standing over him.

He waved them off. “Just a migraine from concentrating.”

“If you'd like, we can postpone—”

“No. It's almost lunch, and I'm almost done.” He went back to his test, but Kaito didn't leave his mind all day. He didn't want to press, either.

He was exhausted by the time he finished his last test, just in time for everyone to get out. He grabbed his bag and left the building slowly, deep in thought.

It had been odd, the whole weekend. Shinichi was getting quite an education on things he never quite considered. He wondered if Kaito knew just how much he had given away. More than he'd intended, Shinichi was sure. This bond (not the mental one as fantastic as it was) was fragile, and the slightest misstep on either one of their parts could break it.

Both of them were in a sense hesitant, wary. Perfectly aware of the fact they were dancing around each other, how this could end.

But then they had always danced around one another. So few people were on Shinichi’s level, and the Kid was the only one that ever got away. And more than once. Maybe that old adage was true about wanting what you couldn't have. Kid had always been out of his reach, even when they worked together.

With his name, Shinichi could follow the clues and shatter that bond beyond repair it if he wanted. Everything was so new, so spontaneous. He could find him easily enough, arrest him, destroy his life.

Shinichi didn't want to.

“Shinichi! Shinichi, wait up!”

Shinichi paused. “Oh hey, Ran.” She caught up with him, and they started walking again, this time together.

“I thought I wouldn't catch you. You have any plans tonight? Sonoko and I were planning on going out to the cinema, and it's been awhile since we've done anything together, so I was wondering if you wanted to come?"

Sonoko for a buffer. “I think I’ll pass. I've got plans with Doc Agasa. Then something after.” He did, but it didn't make it easy to blow her off. He missed her. “Sorry. It can't be helped, or I'd cancel.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip, looking like she was gathering her courage. “Shinichi, you've been kind of distant lately.”

Shinichi let out a slow breath. They were going to do this now? “There's just a lot been going on. Cases, catching up on what I missed. It's hard, this close to graduation.”

“Shinichi, don't. Please be honest with me for once. _Please.”_ Shinichi’s resolve wavered.

“I don't deserve you,” he said. “I should have never confessed, never asked you to wait.” he reached down and grabbed her hand. “I'm not the person I was two years ago. I've done so many things I'm not proud of.” He squeezed. “It changes you, Ran. And it was never fair to you.”

“Shouldn’t you let me make that choice for myself? If this is some deluded way to protect me, so help me Shinichi,” she trailed off, threat implicit.

Shinichi winced, because yeah, that was mostly true, at least before Kaito. “Maybe once it was,” he admitted. “But things have changed, recently.”

“Changed?” Ran asked helplessly. “How?”

“There are things that have happened to me. I don't know how to explain. But it's not you. It was never you. It's always been me. I can't be the one. I'm sorry.” He let her go.

“Is that—What were you doing all weekend? I didn't hear from you at all,” Ran asked. “I was worried. Normally, you at least call.”

 _Having mad sex with Kid. So sorry._ Shinichi grimaced. That would go over so well.

 _Precious?_ A feeling of mild amusement and confusion.

 _Sorry. Didn't mean to think that at you. And I'm still not a gem, by the way._ “You've been kind of busy, what with cram school and entrance exams and everything.” Shinichi shrugged. “I didn't want to bother you. Especially since we've decided to take a break for a while.”

Ran frowned. “That's true, but you didn't answer my question. And I never meant for you to disappear from my life completely. That's too much like—” she stopped talking.

Shinichi stopped walking, Ran stopping beside him. They were in front of the Agency.

“Like what I used to do to you,” he finished for her. “Ran, could you ever hate me?”

“Shinichi, no! What kind of question is that?”

“Even if I lied to you for a long time. About things that matter.”

“I'd be hurt and disappointed, hypothetically. I'm only human. But I'd like to think our friendship means more than that,” she said slowly. “To the both of us. I could never hate you, no matter what you did. Shinichi, what's going on?”

“You know I love you, right? I always will. You're my everything. And there's nothing more I would like to make you happy. But I've been keeping secrets from you, big ones, ones that would impact your life and forever change how you feel about me, I just know it. That's one of the reasons I thought a break to figure us out would be good. But—”

“Things have changed,” Ran finished for him. ”Shinichi, no matter what it is, I'll be here for you, okay?”

“Ran—”

“No. I mean it. Whatever it is, you’ll tell me in your own time. I know you will, Shinichi. You probably already would have. But I'm not made of glass, you know.”

“I know. It's more the fact you can put your fist through concrete.”

Ran tilted her head, thoughtful. “So you're scared of me?” She said slowly. “And you'll think I'll react that badly.”

Shinichi nodded. “Absolutely terrified. I love you, but I'm not the one who's going to be able to make you happy.”

“Don't think so little of me, Shinichi. Maybe I will react badly, but I'd never hurt you. You didn't have to confess just so I'd stay around. Idiot.” She punched him lightly in the arm. “You're never getting rid of me, you know. We've been friends for too long. We survived breaking up. We can survive anything!”

Shinichi gave her a faint smile. “I know. But you punching me just now doesn't exactly make me believe you," he teased.

"Shinichi," Ran said, shaking her head, and then she threw her arms around him. “Don't be a stranger, Shinichi. And take your time. Tell me when you're ready. I won't pretend I'm not dying to know, but…”

“I won't. You're too good to me, Ran.”

She smiled. “Darn straight!”

He watched her walk in, then continued on his way, breathing a sigh of relief. That could have gone a lot worse. He'd tell her about Conan. Soon.

Just a block past the Detective Agency, the wild squeal of tires made Shinichi look over towards the street. A nondescript black car sped past him, fishtailing so the passenger’s side faced him. ( _American make, government plates, two in the vehicle, deadly intent)_

Shinichi's heart raced. Panic flared up, he froze, a dangerous reaction; they were supposed to be gone, it had been two months, CIA and Interpol were working with the NPA to weed out the rest, _This shouldn't be happening! React, Shinichi!_ The flash of a muzzle in a half-open window, someone in a fedora wearing solid black clothing and large sunglasses, the sound of a gunshot as he dove to the pavement, rolling behind a mailbox, scraping his knees and elbows and hands raw and bloody.

A woman's scream and a loud curse, the screech of a car manoeuvring back into traffic and disappearing.

Keeping his head down, he crawled over to the woman, a crowd already forming. She was clutching her chest, blood pouring from the wound and staining her jumper. He took off his uniform coat and balled it up, putting pressure on the wound. Her breaths were wet; every one of them rattled. A trickle of blood ran down her chin. _Damn it!_

 _Shinichi? Shinichi, what's going on?_ Kaito's panicked voice. _What did you mean 'deadly intent?’ Who is that figure in the Black? We can send images? Where are you? Shinichi!?_

No time to think or respond or worry about what he was broadcasting. “Anyone call emergency services?” He said hoarsely. No one responded in the affirmative, so he dialed 119 for the ambulance, and then 110 to report the crime.

“Why?” The woman asked weakly, clutching his hand.

“I'm sorry, it's my fault they were aiming for me—” Shinichi began.

“Chance?” She coughed, blood flying out of her mouth. “That's lame.” Another cough. “Cool way to go out, though.”

“You're not going to die, miss.” He waited with her until the ambulance came, his uniform covered in her blood, his coat beyond repair.

He fired off a quick _I'm fine_ to Kaito.

_Fine can mean many things. What happened?_

_I'll explain later._

A flash of deep concern. _I'll hold you to that. It felt serious._

_It was._

He gave his statement and everything to Inspector Megure when he showed up, telling him as much as he could remember, Megure already directing officers to the shops lining the way for footage.

“And you're sure it was you they were after?” the Inspector asked him.

Shinichi nodded. “He looked like a member of the Organisation. The one I went underground for. I didn't think there was anyone left. A dangerous assumption. I'm going to forward the relevant info to my international contacts as well, Inspector. They need to know.”

He nodded, picking at his thick moustache. “Yes. I understand.”

“It could even be a copy-cat. I've no shortage of enemies,” Shinichi said.

Inspector Megure clapped him on the shoulder. “That I do know! Your curse for being so good at what you do.”

Shinichi tried to smile, but couldn't, instead replying with a soft, “Yeah.” And then, “You'll let me know if anything new comes up?”

“Of course!”

He looked at his watch. “Then I need to go. I'm already very late for an appointment.”

“Do you need one of my officers to take you?”

Shinichi shook his head. “I'll be fine. I doubt they'd finish me off right now. It's too soon. I'll talk to you later.” He folded his stained coat across his arm.

The Inspector nodded grimly. “Stay safe.”

The rest of his walk to the Professor’s passed without incident, much to Shinichi's relief. It didn't stop him from keeping a wary eye out, or from shaking. He thought the paranoia from living as Conan was horrible, the way it turned him inside out, but an attack happening once he thought he was safe was even worse.

He opened the door with a cautious, ”Doc?”

“In here!” He heard from the kitchen. Then an explosion. “Though Ai-kun is in the lab ready for your check-up.”

“Thanks!” Shinichi called back, heading down to Haibara’s little hidey-hole.

“You're late,” she said, tapping her foot impatiently and crossing her arms. She looked him up and down, wrinkling her nose a bit. “And covered in blood.”

Shinichi grimaced. “Most of it isn't mine. Attempted homicide.”

“Of course,” Haibara said primly. “Isn't it always?”

“No. Sometimes it's arson. Kidnapping, once or twice.”

“Smartass. Any noticeable changes since the last time we met? No immune problems? Changes in appetite or behaviour? Shortness of breath? Chronic symptoms?”

Shinichi hesitated for a moment before replying, “No, not really.”

“You hesitated,” she said. “What have I told you about prevarication and lying about your health?” She tapped his uniform. “Take it off, let me do your blood.”

Shinichi took off his blood-soaked dress shirt, not noticing when a piece of paper fluttered from his trouser pocket as he sat. Haibara did, though, and knelt down to pick it up.

“Hey, what's this?” Haibara had a strange note in her voice.

“What's what, Haibara?” Shinichi said.

Haibara was holding a piece of notebook paper up by the thumb and forefinger like it would bite her. “This fell out of your pocket.”

Shinichi's eyebrow twitched. “And?”

“It's more than than I ever wanted to know about you,” she grimaced. _“Ever._ The bite marks are bad enough,” she gestured to his upper torso.

“What are you talking about?” He shifted on the low table as Haibara flipped the page where he could see it. 

“A heist note. For your virginity.”

“Well, it's a little late for that,” Shinichi mused, feeling faint, blushing. 

In the hour of the Cock,  
At the house of Holmes,  
I will steal what's guarded  
Between the Lion and the Scales.  

    
    
                                    ~~~~~♥

  
  
  
---  
  
It was word for word what Kaito'd joked about, with a doodle of Kid and a little heart. Shinichi was touched, but glad it had fallen out here where it was safe.

“No denial? Are you serious?” Haibara glared. “I especially did not need to know that, thanks. You and Kaitou Kid need to keep your bedroom games inside the bedroom and not involve other people, thanks.” Then she frowned. “What are you doing sleeping with him anyway?”

“I don't know! There was this stupid jewel that caused a mind link, and I practically molested Kid on accident; one thing led to another, and it just sort of happened, okay?”

“‘It just sort of happened?’ Mind link? You're having me on,” Haibara said, crossing her arms. “And how can you molest someone on accide—No, don't tell me I absolutely don't want to know.”

“With my mind. _Mentally._ Need I remind you that you invented a drug that was supposed to to cause full body apoptosis and instead regressed us according to a preset genetic template? I don't think you can afford to be sceptical.”

“That is science and can be explained away, though probably not in terms you'd ever understand.” Shinichi rolled his eyes. “Humans aren't telepathic, anyway. There's never been a case conclusively proven.”

“In a sense you're right, I guess. It _is_ all in my head,” he said flippantly. “And you're wondering why I hesitated to tell you about changes.”

She ignored him. She checked his eyes, his heart, his breathing, and his blood pressure, then drew six vials of blood. “Well, your baseline is still normal. Vitals are in the average range for a healthy seventeen-year-old male. I'll have to check your bloodwork to be sure, but so far the cure is holding steady with no unexpected side effects, other than a high white blood cell count that has been diminishing. We will see if that continues once I analyse the sample.

“Now for the rest: I don't think you'd lie, not about this for a prank. Call me crazy, but I believe you. Other than,” here she grimaced. “Telepathy, are there any other symptoms? There's no telekinesis involved, is there?”

“No. No telekinesis, clairvoyance, psychometry, precognition, or other forms of ESP.” He tilted his head. “Well, empathy, I guess. He feels what I do, and I feel what he does. Emotive and physical.”

“Speech or images?”

A pause, and then “Both. Speech is easier.”

“Parameters?” She asked, her clipboard in front of her.

“I'm not sure. We haven't really tested them.”

“How did you discover it, then?”

“Are you sure you want to know? You just said you didn't.” Shinichi pinked. “I was,” he mumbled the rest.

Haibara tapped her foot. “Yes, unfortunately. I have to know to see if this will interfere with the cure.”

“I was touching myself ah, intimately, and he felt it, okay?” Shinichi said, pink turning into a deep red. “I didn't mean to involve him at all!”

“And you felt him touching you?” She asked, all business.

“Not exactly. All I could feel was my own touch at first. I didn't feel it until he started joining in. He was touching himself, but it sure felt like he was touching me.”

“Distance isn't a factor. For speech or feeling.”

Shinichi shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. Feelings and words are just as strong, as long as it's direct. Oh, and we can't lie to one another mentally. We can lie by omission, or mislead, or talk around, but not directly.”

“Interesting. You said you lost your virginity. You've been close enough to touch?” She pressed.

“Well, touch does amplify it exponentially. I'm talking about multiple…things and oh! Um, when we actually did it, it felt a little like I lost my sense of self. It was kind of frightening, actually, and it felt like something changed afterwards.”

“Lost yourself?”

“You know how in movies and books they're like 'the other half of my soul' and 'two became one?’ I couldn't tell where he ended and I began. We were—it’s hard to describe, but we—we were perfect. Feeling another that deeply...it changes you. I don't think we'd be this close otherwise.”

“That sounds dangerous.

Shinichi let out a breath. “Yeah, it does. We’re dealing, though.”

“And a jewel did it?”

“Kid's latest heist. He held it up to the moonlight, and it flared blue, and like an idiot I tried to grab it from him, and we both ended up blasted back. Two hours later we could hear each other think! There's no logic to it,” Shinichi said, bewildered. “No reason it should work like that. It's impossible is what it is!”

“And yet, here we are,” Haibara said wryly. “Come back next week for your bloodwork results. I think we can space this out to every other month now. I'll see what I can find, but most information on the topic is utter bull. When you return, bring your lover. I want to run some tests.” At Shinichi's flat look, she added, “Not invasive. I'm no psychologist, ugh, soft science, but I do want more than one sample size. The jewel would be nice as well, so I can see how it differs, or if it has any detrimental or positive effect.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Haibara. It's just been a long day.” Shinichi said, running his fingers through his hair.

“First biochemistry, which is actually my focus, then medicine, now psychology and geology. You're turning me into an omnidisciplinary scientist.” Her eyes softened, and Shinichi must have been seeing things. “Go home. Change. Clean your wounds. It's a wonder you didn't get blood all over my table.”

“Your butcher slab, you mean.”

“Get _out.”_

“I'm going, I'm going.”

 

 

 


	4. The Clue

_Kaito, I think I—_ Shinichi thought, unable to finish as a wave of exhaustion hit him, and he staggered against the wall, catching himself with his shoulder.

 _Shinichi, where are you?_ Kaito asked, anxiety flooding through the link, acrid like fire.

 _Next door, at the Professor's. I'm fine._ Shinichi watched his shaking hands, the scrapes from his fall earlier having already scabbed over. He picked at the shredded skin. The trembling was getting annoying. He thought he was past this. This wasn't his first near death encounter, not even close, so why was this one affecting him so much? His heart rate and blood pressure had been fine at Haibara’s, or she wouldn’t have let him leave.

_I feel what you do, remember? I don't think that's most people's definition of fine. I'll be right over. Stay put._

_I’m not helpless._ Shinichi ignored how the wall of the Professor's house was the only thing holding him up, his shaky breathing. He ignored the way his stomach was twisting and curling, the vertigo itching its way around his head. It was as if now that he'd lost the need to put up a front, he was falling to pieces.

 _No, but needing help doesn't make you weak._ It didn't take long for Kaito to find him. _“_ Shinichi?” Kaito asked before he got a good look at him: the blood-soaked coat across his forearm, deep red stains across his white shirt and tie and the lap of his trousers. “Shinichi?” he asked again, this time in horror, his face rapidly paling.

“Hey, K-Kaito,” Shinichi said, voice cracking. “I've kind of had a long day.”

“You said you were fine! What happened?” Kaito grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him over, patting him down. “Shinichi, your _hands_ —” _I'm not feeling this. Elbows and knees are pretty torn. Nerve problems?_

 _No. I feel it, but I'm ignoring the pain._ Shinichi grimaced, but he looped his free arm around Kaito as they walked towards his home. “The hands are my fault, but it’s not my blood. Drive-by. Best guess it was a professional hit with me as the target. They missed me thanks to quick reflexes, but there was some collateral damage as a woman behind me was hit in the lung. No one on scene knew any first-aid, so I did the best I could until the ambulance showed up.”

“But she lived?” Shinichi nodded. “Good.”

“Yeah, Inspector Megure’s team is keeping me updated. She's stable. They got her into surgery in time. If I hadn't dived to the ground—”

“You can't think like that. You'd be hurt or worse. Don't take this all on yourself. Besides, the gunman might have confused you for—” Kaito stopped, pressing his lips together.

“That's easy for you to say,” and Shinichi just knew he sounded tired, his voice hoarse. “I thought I was safe, and then this happens. Maybe I really am cursed,” he said, “You should—” but then he froze as he noticed someone surreptitiously watching them as they reached the Kudou gate. Panic spiked through him. _Kaito, who is—is that_ _ **Hakuba**_ _?_

 _Yeah. The idiot followed me. I let it slip you were my precious gem. Pay him absolutely no mind._ “Hey,” Kaito said aloud, placing a hand on each side of his face, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Don’t think like that, precious. I'm not going to leave you. Here,” there was a puff of smoke, and a fresh red rose appeared in his hand. He bowed and offered it to Shinichi. “I promise.”

Shinichi took it tenderly, holding it up to his nose and breathing in the faint perfume. “No thorns,” he said for lack of anything better. A red rose meant pretty much the same in Victorian and Japanese flower languages, and it nearly took his breath away. Love. Respect.

“No, no thorns,” Then Kaito kissed him. Shinichi went boneless almost immediately, sagging into Kaito's arms, falling against him. Kaito pressed him against the wall to help hold him up. The stone scraped his back a little, but it helped him feel _real_.

It wasn't a chaste kiss. Desperation surged through Shinichi as he deepened the kiss, nipping at Kaito's lips and thrusting his tongue inside his mouth, pulling him as close as he could, rocking his hips against Kaito's. It was tongue and groping and pressing way too close, need surging through both their bodies. Neither one cared at the moment about anything else. _You're alive,_ Kaito thought. _We're alive. She didn't die. That's what matters._

 _Okay._ And then, _You let it slip?_ Shinichi asked, tone doubtful, as Kaito wrapped his arms around his neck and nested his fingers in his hair, not worrying about the blood damp coat still on Shinichi's arm. Shinichi's free arm wrapped around his waist, hand careful not to crush the rose.

 _There were...extenuating circumstances. We go to school together. He was interrogating me about the weekend. He thinks I'm Kid,_ Kaito thought, pulling back so he could rest his forehead against Shinichi's.

 _I wonder why,_ Shinichi thought wryly.

 _He thought I was up to no good over the weekend. I mean I was, just not in the way he thought._ Kaito pulled back and tilted his head. _Well, there_ _ **was**_ _the heist, but that wasn't what he was grilling me about. Aoko noticed I didn't come home last night—we’re neighbours and she invites me over for dinner sometimes—she looks out for me because my father's dead and my mum's always traveling and well—_

 _So this is also a way to show you were with me. Think it worked?_ Shinichi kissed him again, just because he could, and because Kaito said what he did so flippantly it had to mean more.

 _Oh, it worked. That is his 'paradigm shift' face. I think we broke his brain,_ Kaito thought back as they turned to move inside the gate. Shinichi paused though, looking over at Hakuba speculatively. The other detective had a face of resignation mixed with more than a little confusion. He knew he'd been caught, though, and didn't try to run.

 _What the hell was he doing following you? If he thinks you're Kid, wouldn't he think that you'd immediately catch someone tailing you?_ “A tail? Should we invite him in?” Shinichi asked, loud enough to carry. “He's not dangerous, is he? I've had enough people shooting at me for one day.”

 _Hakuba Saguru has a bad habit of underestimating me. Why do you think I've never been caught? You're the only one who has ever made it close. He may be a decent detective, but he has no sense of subtlety, and once he has a lead, he tends to ignore other avenues. He's very single-minded._ “No, not dangerous. I have no real objections. He's a detective too, you know. Might be fun, seeing you two go head to head.” They were walking across the street to where Hakuba was really being quite obvious for someone on a stakeout.

 _Heh. He'll know something's up as soon as he finds out I was at the heist Saturday. Good to know, though. We can work with this._ “Sounds like fun. But if Hattori couldn't beat me in a deduction battle, he doesn't stand a chance. Who is he, anyway? I take it you know him?” _I've never met him as myself._

 _If he finds out._ “Hakuba Saguru.”

 _You kidding? He will. All he has to do is to talk to Inspector Nakamori. I for one can't believe you slipped up and used your name for me. “_ As in Superintendent-General Hakuba?”

“The very same. He followed me to find out if I was telling the truth. And lo and behold, I was.” _That whole thing was a screw up, to be honest. I can't believe I lost it with Aoko like that. It's not like me. I don't get emotional. Not like that. It's that damned jewel. “_ Wasn't I, Hakuba?” They had reached him, surrounding him while Kaito crossed his arms and gave him a narrow-eyed glare to let him know he wasn't very happy at all.

Hakuba made a face. “You were acting out of character, Kuroba-kun. Nakamori-san was very worried.”

Kaito laughed. “Because it was about her feelings and not your curiosity. Right.”

“I do not recall you particularly caring for her feelings either,” Hakuba retorted, bristling like a scalded cat.

“I've known her longer. I don't know who you think you are—” Kaito began.

Sensing the need to interrupt, Shinichi said, “Well, you picked a bad day to tail him. You're lucky Kaito recognised you. I might not have been so kind, not after the day I’ve had.” He cut his eyes over to Kaito. _Why would the Inspector—Oh, she. His daughter?_ “Aoko is Nakamori-san, huh?” _No wonder she hates Kid. “_ Your Ran?”

Kaito, of all things, turned pink and cleared his throat, fist in front of his mouth. “Yeah. Childhood friend.” _Yes. Aoko is his daughter._ He didn't offer anything else, and Shinichi didn't ask for details, seeing the connection and the problems inherent all too well.

Hakuba was glancing between them both, the oddest expression on his face. “You _are_ Kudou Shinichi, aren't you.” It wasn't a question.

Shinichi shrugged. “Last time I checked.”

“Why are you covered in blood?”

Kaito opened his mouth to answer, but Shinichi very gently put his fingertips over his mouth. _I've got this. Let's go for long acquaintance to throw off suspicion about Saturday. Technically, considering Conan, it’s true._

_I'll follow your lead, then. I'm not sure I can trust my feelings at the moment._

_I’m sorry._ “Because some people can't leave well enough alone. Come inside. I have a feeling you won't leave without some answers, and we are far too exposed here.” Shinichi held out his left hand. “Kudou Shinichi, detective. I've heard many things about you from Hattori. A bit from Ran. A few from Kaito, but I'd rather make my own judgements.”

“Smart.” Hakuba reached out and grasped it lightly, avoiding putting too much pressure on his scrapes. “Hakuba Saguru. Detective. And likewise. Hattori-kun couldn't stop singing your praises, 'Detective of the East.’”

Shinichi grimaced. Yeah, he'd been there to see it, though Hakuba didn't know. “Come on. Now that the pleasantries are over, we aren't getting anything done standing here, and I have had a rather long day and would like to get this interrogation over with, no offence.”

“None taken,” Hakuba said. So by not saying anything about Shinichi’s use of the word interrogation, he was admitting he was looking for answers.

They walked across the street and inside, leaving their shoes in the genkan and switching to slippers, save Kaito who chose to be barefoot. Shinichi led them to the library, noting Hakuba cataloguing everything with his eyes as they walked through his home.

“Shinichi, we need to do something about your injuries,” Kaito said. _“_ I'll go get the first-aid kit. Hakuba, don't bother him. Who knows what kind of mad things you'll do? Next thing you know, you'll start accusing _him_ of being Kid.” _You do have a first-aid kit, right?_ Kaito thought at him as he left the library.

_Of course._

_Where?_

_Cabinet underneath the sink. The bath you used._

_Got it._

-

“Don't worry about bugs or recording devices. I swept the room and have a jammer in place, so we can talk freely,” Kudou placed the rose Kuroba had given him on the desk, fingering the petals and giving it a small, soft smile as he did, at odds with what he was saying.

Saguru stared, nonplussed. “Isn't that a little paranoid?”

Kudou shrugged, gesturing to himself. “It's not paranoia if someone is actually after you, you know, and well, I'm still alive.” He frowned. “For now. Besides, the people after me have been here.” His frown grew more pronounced. “If they are the same people. I shouldn't be making assumptions.” He gestured to a chair. “Please, take a seat.”

“Right.” Saguru sat, folding his hands in his lap. He couldn't help but keep staring at the man leaned against the desk with his arms crossed. Tired didn't even begin to describe him. Exhaustion dripped from him like he was a study in it. Kudou was in their age range, but he looked far older, deep lines on his face and his shoulders slumped like he carried the weight of the world. The blood—and Saguru still couldn't get over that—covered the white in broad artistic strokes. Almost a _tableau vivant._ Dark justice for the name, if he wanted to get fanciful.

Saguru didn't believe in the supernatural, but the fact Kudou was covered in blood made him wonder. Fury. Shinigami. Both, or neither. Perhaps simply labels. It certainly wasn't what he expected his first meeting with Kudou to be like, in this massive library that put his own to shame. But he supposed he should have expected him to be human, no matter what the rumours said about him. Normally, Saguru wasn't quite so prone to melodrama, Inverness cape aside, but what Koizumi-san said about Tisiphone had stayed with him.

Utter nonsense. But she had been right about Kuroba seeing Kudou. How had she known? And because she had been right about one thing, suddenly her words about the 'dark presence’ didn't seem so fantastical. Saguru had followed him for confirmation, but he really wasn't expecting to, well, find it. Kudou and Kuroba? Really? _Really_? He was still having trouble wrapping his mind around it. Not to mention Kuroba had only ever expressed strict interest in women, Aoko-kun’s beliefs about Kid aside. Rumour painted Kudou as rather arrogant, and it would seem his and Kuroba’s egos would clash.

They didn’t clash at all. The way they moved in and out of each other's space fluently as if they were constantly aware of the other. The way they communicated with only a look. It spoke of strong affection and deep knowledge of the other. They way Kudou anticipated Kuroba and stopped him with just a gesture. An intimate gesture but a simple one, nonetheless.

The...scene in front of the gate, for lack of a better word. So brazen and unconcerned. So visceral. Once he saw them walking together, Kudou supported by Kuroba and plastered to Kuroba’s side, he knew it was true, but that definitely confirmed it. No one faking for whatever reason was that passionate. Blood still rushed to his face if he thought too much about it. He shifted in his seat.

“Kaito doesn't have many things.” Kudou said out of nowhere, startling Saguru out of his thoughts.

Saguru realised he was still staring. “Beg pardon?”

“He has very little,” Kudou repeated, “so he's protective of the few things he does have.”

“So you're saying he's possessive of what he considers his? I don't understand where you're going with this.” What a bizarre way to begin. Meaning himself, obviously, but what point was he trying to make?

Kudou tsked. _“_ Clearly. Protective is not nearly in the same category as possessive. To possess is to own or control. To protect is to guard, to offer sanctuary. Opposite ends of the spectrum, actually.”

Saguru bristled. He wasn't stupid. And they called _him_ arrogant. “I still—”

“You shouldn't have followed him. There's a reason he hasn't told you or Nakamori-san about me.” It appeared his exhaustion had left him. Kudou's eyes were fever bright, his arms crossed and his back straight, expression hard.

Saguru kind of wanted to shift back, but he'd lose all respect for himself if he did. “Because he's protective of his personal life, I'm sure. Where are you going with this?” Saguru asked, a little thrown. There was something familiar about that intense gaze, and it wasn't his passing resemblance to Kuroba. He'd never met Kudou before, but he recognised the scrutiny of those eyes. But from where?

“No. Because he acts like an arse, but he still considers you his friends, and he doesn't want either of you in danger. Knowing me is enough to put you there as things stand right now,” Kudou said.

Saguru paused as the words began to form a picture he didn't quite like. “This has to do with why you're covered in blood, doesn't it?”

“It's the blood of a woman. Nishida Aya. She has a great laugh, and an odd sense of humour, and I had no idea who she was until she almost died in my arms today, the survivor of a bullet meant for me. A hit. Just because I was in the vicinity. Just because I literally dodged a bullet.”

Understanding hit him then. “You're being targeted.” Which explained so much. The connection to Kid. The paranoia. Kuroba hiding the fact they even knew each other until he became careless, most likely because of the introduction of romantic elements into their relationship. The ‘honeymoon phase’ as it were. Had to be recent.

“To say the least. Which means my friends and family are acceptable collateral. Most of them know, and they help out as much as they can, but they're still in danger. It's why I went undercover for two years—to draw attention away. I came back because I thought it was over, but I'm not that lucky, it seems.”

“And these people after you, you know them? How?” Saguru's mind raced; he was still missing a few key pieces, but threads that made no sense before (like the absurdity of detective and thief, law and outlaw) started coming together and making a dark sort of sense.

“Some. It would be better to say I know of them. Two years ago, I discovered two of the Black Organisation blackmailing an arms dealer, and I was force-fed a poison meant to kill me. See, they don’t much like leaving behind evidence that they exist.” Kudou worked his jaw, moving to cross his arms before dropping them to the side. “I lived, but it left me with a weak body and unable to do much of anything on my own. It did give me freedom to move around since they thought I was dead. A luxury I don't have any more.” Kudou sighed suddenly, energy gone, and he was again a teenager instead of a force of nature.

“You know, I'd always wondered how you ended up the way you were,” Kuroba said, carrying an absolutely enormous first-aid kit with him. “Some poison.” He set it on the floor by the desk, then pulled the desk chair around and strong-armed Kudou into it. “Sit.”

Kudou smiled, but it was faint and a little bit bitter. “Yeah. Some poison.”

It pinged something with Saguru. Another piece of the puzzle. “That's when you met? When he was ill?” he asked Kuroba. The Kid had re-debuted a little over two and a half years ago. Kudou disappeared just under two.

“During that time, yes.” Kuroba answered. “We've known each other for years.” He leaned over and began unbuttoning Kudou's stained shirt carefully, helping him take it off, leaving him shirtless. And those weren't bruises. Saguru looked away, a hint of heat rising to his cheeks. They weren't shy about their relationship at all, and it was disconcerting. “There were fireworks…” Kuroba trailed off, voice tinged with nostalgia.

“The dancing was phenomenal, as I recall. I practically chased after you. I'd never had anyone match me so well.” Kudou said, wincing as Kuroba cut the excess shredded skin with a pair of small sharp scissors.

“And the magic show was most excellent, if I do say so myself.”

“You performed?” Saguru asked. So they'd met at some kind of show? Possibly at a high-class private home; there had been several heists of the type. Parties were a good excuse to be there; servers and other sundry workers were ubiquitous and hard to track, and Kid was a master of disguises.

“Oh no. Not me.” He tilted his head. “Well, some. I never go anywhere without some kind of performance, but no. Sadly, another magician headlined. But he wasn't bad.” He was still tending to Kudou's hands, cleaning them, rubbing them down with antiseptic ointment before wrapping each one tenderly.

Ah. With Kudou's mother a former actress and his father an international bestselling author, the exact event would be hard to track down, especially as Kudou was undercover, not without directly asking. Come to think of it, Kudou had probably used Kid's disguise expertise during those years.

“You’re better,” Kudou said, voice oddly sincere.

Kuroba beamed. “That's why you're my favourite!” He moved to Kudou's elbows, hands exceedingly gentle as he wiped his left down with hydrogen peroxide, then moved to his other arm.

Saguru rubbed his temples. He would have not pegged either one of them as the lovey-dovey type, but they were proving him wrong. And everything they said rang of truth. Not even a hint of hesitance or any tells. “Why do you call it the Black Organisation?”

“Because the operatives tend to dress in black entirely.”

Kuroba fumbled the bottle of topical antiseptic, spilling it everywhere. Kudou gave him a long look, concerned, but Kuroba kept his face down, mopping up his spill before moving to bandage Kudou's elbows. Curious. Had Kudou spilled too much in Kuroba's eyes? A propensity to dress in black wasn't restricted to one solitary crime syndicate, no matter how large, so his reaction was very curious indeed.

Giving him one last long look, Kudou continued. “Two months ago I came out of hiding and we were able to catch most of the main players of the Black Organisation at one of their properties, a reproduction of Komine Castle. Well, save this one rather annoying operative who managed to escape, but considering our past interactions, I doubt they're behind this, since they have a vested interest in keeping me alive.”

“And you can’t go to the police?” Here it was. This answer would determine why. Why they would work together.

“Your father is the Superintendent-General, correct?” Saguru nodded. “Then you should know better than anyone. They _are_ the police. Enough so that it is a very risky proposition. I trust Division One. I trust my liaison with the FBI and CIA. I trust Hattori and his team in Osaka. Everyone else is a crapshoot, and I'm not particularly fond of gambling. The car had municipal plates. Could be stolen, but now I'm more inclined to believe we didn't even come close to touching ‘That Man’ and that he holds a high position in the Japanese government, international syndicate or no. It's just supposition right now. I’ve already made the mistake of assuming once. I have nothing concrete. The rest were supposed to be small fry,” Kudou paused for a moment, eyes flickering to Kuroba, gathering his words, ”they shouldn't have access to a government car.”

And there it was. Alone, unable to trust anyone, skating the lines of authority, Kudou would have had very few people to turn to. Kuroba, whose father died under mysterious circumstances (Saguru didn't believe faulty equipment for a single moment), whose family's timeline matched the disappearance and reappearance of the Kaitou Kid exactly, under fire from a similar or the same group, and unable to trust anyone either, just on the other side of the law. Was it any wonder they were working together? And then that working relationship had turned into something more. No, it made absolute sense.

“How does Hattori-kun fit into this?” Because really, this was the first he’d heard of it and Saguru didn’t think that hot-head could keep quiet about anything.

“He found out on his own and wouldn't go away. In any case, I thought I was safe enough to return to public life. I was almost dead wrong.”

“Why tell me?” He had to know he would deduce some, if not all of their connection.

“Because you'll press and press otherwise. I know your type.” Saguru made to interrupt, but Kudou finished with, “I am your type. How do you think I got into this mess? Poking my nose where it didn't belong just because I saw someone suspicious and couldn't leave well enough alone. If you decide to follow up on this, you'll be doing it with your eyes open.”

“What makes you think I'd even be interested in doing so?” Saguru asked, folding his arms.

“Because you not only transferred to a foreign high school on unfounded suspicion and circumstantial evidence, but also followed a classmate on a whim in order to satisfy your curiosity. That doesn't speak of someone who can leave well enough alone.” A fair point, Saguru supposed. Kuroba _had_ been talking.

“Knees?” Kuroba asked, kneeling down and pulling at the fabric on his leg.

Kudou blushed. “I'm not taking my trousers off in front of Hakuba-ni—Hakuba-san!” he said, scandalised. And thank God for that, Saguru thought with no small measure of relief. They actually had some discretion. That business in front of the gate would have been uncomfortably sexual in the more open West, never mind here. Any doubt he had about the nature of their relationship had been thoroughly quashed.

“Roll them up, then.” He fingered the knee where a hole had been torn in the fabric and pulled. It stuck to the wound. “This one's shredded. You have cloth in the scabs.” Kuroba gazed up at Kudou through his eyelashes for a long moment and pouted. “You don't want it to get infected, do you?”

Something must have been communicated in that look, for Kudou said, “No! Look, I'll go change into some athletic shorts, all right? Happy?”

Kuroba smiled. “Exceedingly.” As Kudou left, Kuroba turned to him. “Why are you really here?”

“I merely wanted to know who you were seeing.”

“No. Don't lie. There are other ways. Like, you know, asking.”

“You wouldn't have told the truth had I asked.” And there was the matter that Saguru probably wouldn't have believed it. He was honestly still having trouble wrapping his mind around it, and he'd seen the clear evidence.

Kuroba scoffed. “And even you have never stooped this low. You are acting like an overprotective mother, interrogating my boyfriend like this. I made it very clear it was none of your business what I do in my personal life.” Kuroba tilted his head. “Who I do, anyway. I didn't know you cared that much, Hakuba.”

Saguru couldn't help it; he coloured at Kuroba's frankness, so he asked, tone biting, “Does Kudou-san know the Kaitou Kid occasionally has gunmen that dress in black suits at his heists? That that is the reason the officers wear riot gear? I wonder if that came before or after your acquaintance.” And that was the crux, wasn't it? Was it Kudou’s group or Kid’s, or were they both targets of the same?

Kuroba ignored his fishing attempt. Saguru figured he would. “Hakuba, say it. Don't talk around it, or try to distract me. I thought you English were supposed to be direct like that,” he waved him off, completely unconcerned.

Saguru grimaced. “No. That's the Americans, but I digress. Koizumi-san said, 'Death had caught you,’ and that 'The dark presence threaded its way through you.’ I admit, it piqued my curiosity enough to follow. I had merely desired to question you, before.”

“And those were her exact words?” Kuroba pressed, expression oddly intent.

“Yes.”

Kuroba let out an explosion of breath, leaning back against the leg of the desk and putting his hands behind his head. “Damned meddling witch. You know, it's kind of a relief to know what happened to Shinichi wasn't because of magic. I had wondered.”

Saguru blinked at the non sequitur. “You believe in magic?”

Kaito laughed. “You don't? Detectives,” he said, shaking his head, laughter in his tone. “You know Akako, and you still don't. That's great. What about 'Once you have eliminated the impossible, blah blah blah?’”

Saguru ignored the mangling of the Doyle quote. “What did she mean, 'dark presence?’”

Kuroba stared. “Have you not been paying attention? Shinichi works homicides! He has hitmen after him! Dark doesn't mean evil. I imagine that's it,” he said dismissively, waving his hand.

“She called him an avatar of death. Called him Tisiphone.”

Kuroba’s mouth formed a sharp slash, and his eyes narrowed. “Tisiphone? That's Greek, isn't it?”

Alarmed by the sudden interest, Saguru cautiously said, “Yes.”

“Trying to trip me up, aren't you? Or she,” here he rolled his eyes, “isn't as knowledgeable as she likes to claim. Everyone knows Tisiphone was one of the Erinyes, birthed from the castration of Ouranos by Kronos in most tales. In the Orphic Hymns, they were the offspring of Hades and Persephone, if I recall.” He frowned. “That's a rather obscure reference, though, since they're not exactly avatars of death itself—that would be Thanatos, at least for natural death. It's something of an oversimplification since there's no all-encompassing death god, and Hades just rules the Underworld. Consider the Erinyes avatars of justice, maybe, of crimes against the natural order. Or vengeance, for they're often depicted as angry. I’ll take justice, but vengeance—that's not Shinichi’s way. Retribution would be a better word for him. Simply payment for what is due, rather than harm for harm.”

Curiouser and curiouser. Saguru certainly felt as lost as dear Alice as the rabbit hole went deeper and deeper and Kuroba showed unexpected knowledge and seemed to _agree_ with Koizumi-san’s words. “And you know this well enough to recall it without aid?”

Kuroba leaned forward, baring his teeth in a smile reminiscent of a tiger's. “Let's just say Greek mythology is a hobby of mine.”

How bizarre. Kid-related? Saguru couldn't see how. At first he thought it might be legendary gems, but Kid seemed to pick his targets arbitrarily unless he was taunted. “I see. Any particular reason?”

“No, not really. Mythology of any kind is terribly fascinating, don't you think? But I can see why Akako saw it as a useful shorthand. In a way, Shinichi does avenge the murdered and puts them to rest by catching the criminals. Tisiphone's realm is homicide and parricide, so the name fits.” His smile softened, and his face grew rather wistful. “And what do you know? They have wings.”

“But how did she know? You told her but not Aoko-kun?” Saguru said, the last thing he had been puzzled about. Kuroba was on familiar terms with her, but they didn't seem close. He treated her like an annoyance, more often than not. How anyone could treat a stunning woman like that was beyond Saguru's guess, but considering he also had Aoko-kun's love, who was beautiful in her own cute way, and the attention of Kudou who had model-worthy looks, objectively speaking, he supposed he could see why.

Kaito looked at him like he had gone mad. “Seriously? I wouldn't tell Akako anything. Ever. She's always sticking her nose in where it doesn't belong.”

“Then how did she know if you didn't tell her? I hesitate to call you discreet, at least in this, but I had no inkling until today.”

-

Kaito groaned internally. Hakuba was in rare form today, probably spurred on by Shinichi's unusually loose tongue. Inspired by the idea, he threw his hands up in the air and told the truth. “Magic!”

Hakuba frowned. Kaito counted that as a win. “See, you never believe me when I'm telling the truth!” Kaito said, pouting.

“I believe that's a foreign concept to you,” Hakuba said. He was about to say more when Shinichi came back in, holding a wet cloth to a freely bleeding knee.

Kaito stared. He'd never seen Shinichi so casual before. He was wearing a blue and white striped jersey with the number 10 emblazoned across it and a pair of matching shorts. His mouth went a little dry. The sporty type worked very well on Shinichi. Probably the novelty of it. A look from Shinichi told Kaito immediately that he'd picked up on it. “You look good in casual clothing,” Kaito blurted out. _Oh, look at that. Honesty everywhere today._ Judging by his mildly queasy look, Hakuba had also picked up on what Kaito was feeling. Kaito frowned. _Am I being that obvious?_

 _Yes. You look like you want to devour me whole._ “Thanks,” he said wryly. “First year soccer uniform. The only year I played. I quit because I enjoyed detective work more. Surprised I can still fit into it. Guess I haven't grown all that much,” Shinichi picked at his shirt.

The shorts were a few inches short, and the shirt a little tight, but it was hardly indecent. “Oh I don't know. I'd say you've grown a lot,” Kaito purred. He moved over behind him, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Come on, let's get you seated and take care of that wound, okay?” He whispered against his ear. Shinichi shivered.

Hakuba let out a strangled noise and turned a few funny colours. _Must you really?_ Shinichi asked, long-suffering. Out loud, he said, “You don't have to baby me,” grumbling.

 _He started it by following me,_ Kaito said petulantly, but he relented and set to work on his knees, starting with the one that had had its scab torn off. “But I like taking care of you, Shinichi~ I only wish I was wearing a nurse's uniform, and a cute little hat, and—”

Hakuba abruptly stood. “I need to get going,” he said almost desperately. “It’s getting late, and I've intruded on enough of your personal time.”

Kaito laughed. “You didn't have a problem intruding before. A little too friendly for you?”

Shinichi's eyebrow twitched. “You're not against—” he trailed off, gesturing between him and Kaito.

“No,” Hakuba said. “Not at all. It has nothing to do with that. He's just so—” he gestured helplessly at Kaito, whose deliberate wide eyes gave a false impression of innocence.

Kaito wanted to snicker, but he held back for Shinichi's sake. Hakuba wanted to know about their relationship? He'd tell him everything, all right. This was gold. Public displays of affection made Hakuba uncomfortable. Maybe Shinichi was right about the occasional diplomacy by candor. He finished Shinichi’s last knee with a wide area bandage.

“Enthusiastic?” Shinichi said, tone very dry.

“Public,” Hakuba said, tone just as dry.

Kaito put his face in his hands. “Oh no! There are two of you,” he cried out in mock horror.

“Say,” Shinichi said slowly, mischievous grin crossing his face, looking disturbingly like Kaito's own. “I heard you had a raptor named Watson. You wouldn't happen to be a fan of Holmes, would you?”

Hakuba cottoned on quickly and he smiled too, this one much milder, but no less dangerous. “As a matter of fact, I am, actually.”

Kaito groaned again, this time aloud. “To the point of wearing an Inverness cape and deerstalker!”

Instead of looking dissuaded, Shinichi actually perked up at that. “Really? That's absolutely fascinating! I've always loved how in _A Study in Scarlet_ he was able to tell Watson's occupation just by shaking his hand and a glance. I’ve worked hard to be able to do the same—”

And then they just wouldn't shut up about it. Kaito's mind wandered as they talked. ”Blah, Blah Blah Holmes, Blah Blah Blah, Watson Blah Blah Blah Moriarty.”

“—Doylist or Watsonian reading?” Hakuba asked.

“—Doylist, definitely. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was only human and he had to pay his bills just like everyone else, that's why he brought Holmes back—” And talked.

“—Modern BBC?”

“—terrible, absolutely terrible. Switching the _Rache/_ Rachel thing around was admittedly clever, but I found little else to like, particularly in characterisation and the writing—” And talked.

“—Dislike the modern crime procedural and how popular it's gotten; occasionally the crimes are interesting but the forensics are not realistic or even close to proper procedure, not to mention the fantastic devices and the dangerous stereotyping—” And talked.

“—Don’t give enough credit to Dupin and Edgar Allan Poe; he invented the genre—”

 _Shinichi~_ Kaito tried mentally, but it was no use. Shinichi was too enthralled in his conversation with Hakuba.

“—Film Noir? I suppose it's fine as a genre; Mike Hammer’s characterisation in _Kiss Me Deadly_ was so much better than the books, taking the anti-hero detective concept to its logical conclusion; detectives and private investigators should not stoop to the level of the criminal—” Well, that was a dig at Kaito and Shinichi both.

“—Of course I like Christie, who wouldn't? Doyle is better, of course, but her mysteries are engaging, and there is Poirot and Miss Marple—” They wouldn't stop talking.

“—I do like the Basil Rathbone films, though how they treated Watson leaves much to be desired. He wasn't a bumbling fool.”

“Well, I personally think Rathbone was much better in _The Court Jester,_ ” Kaito said, pointing his nose in the air and inserting himself forcefully into the conversation. “Good villain. Devious but ineffectual, my favourite type. Swordfights! Songs! What's not to love?”

There was silence for a long moment before Hakuba checked his pocket watch. “Has it really been that long?” He asked, stunned.

“'Fraid so,” Kaito said, shrugging. “There really are two of you,” he said, shaking his head. 'Blah blah East, Blah Blah West, and never shall the twain meet.’ Ugh! Now I'll never escape Sherlock Holmes.”

“It has been an unexpected pleasure meeting you, Kudou-san,” Hakuba said. “I'd like to continue the acquaintance.”

“Call me Kudou. And likewise, Hakuba-san. I can see why Kaito considers you a friend.”

“I do not!” Kaito said. “He's a detective. Nosy. Annoying. Arrogant. Pushy.” _Shinichi! You are a horrible, horrible person._ And he could say that only because it was clear he didn't really mean it. “We are not friends!”

“All things that can be said about me,” Shinichi said with a grin. _Detectives have to stick together, and you were messing with him at my expense. “_ And yet you put up with me anyway. But if you weren't friends, you wouldn't dare be so open in front of him.” _At least about this._ Kaito huffed, crossing his arms and looking away. He supposed Shinichi had a point. _Hey. Don't worry. I meant what I said about not turning you in._

“Then you must call me Hakuba. But I really do need to get going,” Hakuba said, voice filled with regret. “I did enjoy the latter half of our conversation. You're not what I expected.”

“Remember what we talked about earlier,” Shinichi said, grin gone. “If you do decide to look into it, or if you have any questions, here's my contact information.” He rattled it off while Hakuba put it into his phone. “Be extremely careful.”

“I will,” Hakuba said, equally serious. “And the same applies to you, should you need any assistance I can provide.” He took a quick moment to mail Shinichi with his return information, and then they walked him to the door.

“Finally!” Kaito said, stretching his arms into the air and popping his neck. “I thought he'd never leave.” He felt a wave of exhaustion suddenly flood through him, and he nearly fell as his legs tried to give out. “Shinichi?”

Shinichi was leaning against the wall, shaking again. “Sorry, Kaito. It's like I'm bolstered by your energy when there's someone or something to distract me, but as soon as I lose it, I'm like this.”

“You've just had a rough day, that's all. I’ve got you.” Kaito gently looped his arms around them and helped him to the main room, setting him down gently on the lounge. “You don't think it's this, do you?” Kaito reached into his shirt and pulled out the alleged Tiffany yellow diamond. It matched the picture perfectly, but it couldn't be.

“You had it with you?” Shinichi watched it, entranced. The outside was still yellow, but the inside swirled like a spiral galaxy, dark and sparkling with billions of stars, a clear natural doublet, a gem inside a gem. “It wasn't like that before. I mean I didn't get a good look, but it wasn't, was it?”

“No,” Kaito said, spinning it, making it disappear and reappear before cupping the small gem in his palm. “It wasn't. It was clear yellow. And then it turned dark. There were no specks of light before.”

“May I?” Shinichi asked.

“Go ahead.” Kaito handed over the gem, careful to drop it in his hand rather than have them both touch it simultaneously again.

“That's what I thought,” Shinichi said, satisfied. “It's humming.”

“It is?” Surprise sounded through Kaito's voice. “I don't hear anything.”

“It is. It's more than white noise but not quite music,” Shinichi said, bringing it up to his ears through a passing moonbeam.

“Shinichi, don't—” Kaito hadn't thought about the sliver of moonlight coming in through a high window, but it caught the gem. It pulled away from Shinichi's hands and began to hover in midair.

“What the—” Shinichi began before the room was shrouded in darkness. Slowly, one by one, a scattering of stars appeared until the void filled with them.

“That's Castor and Pollux,” Kaito said, turning. “And Orion and Taurus and Lynx and Canis Minor,” He said, pointing each one out. As he linked the stars together with his finger, lines burst forth in a flash of yellow, following the path of his finger.

“Constellations are a hobby?” Shinichi asked, voice faint. He was still sitting on what appeared to be nothing, so Kaito didn't think they'd entered a different dimension. Small mercies.

“Legends are,” Kaito said. “Particularly Greek ones. Constellations happen to be a part of it.” One never knew what could lead to Pandora, after all, and she was herself a Greek legend, if not her gem. Immortality, what a joke.

“Kaito? I think I get what you meant when you said that the mind link wasn't all that unusual.”

“Yeah, well your definition of unusual becomes a little skewed when you've seen an allure spell in action and been voodoo’d, amongst others.”

“You're kidding,” Shinichi said, voice still faint.

“I wish. I know a witch. I still don't know whether she wants to kiss me or kill me, but she's the one who sicced Hakuba on us today. Plus, we’re sitting inside the Milky Way. Should you really doubt me?”

“No, I can't,” Shinichi said, eyes wide, sinking back into nothing as what he was seeing was finally too much. “I can't explain it, but I can't doubt it either.”

Detectives and their love for the explicable. Shinichi was better than most, but he still favoured logic above all else. “Now where has that diamond gotten off to? Shinichi, do you see it?” Kaito asked, standing up and walking slowly, hoping not to bump into furniture. As he stood, the projection zoomed out. He felt no furniture as he moved, and billions of stars passed by as he searched the celestial bodies. Nothing until he finally reached the accretion disc in the middle of the closest galaxy. He reached inside, and sure enough, there it was, hidden in the yellow of the distorted light.

He reached for it, tugging, feeling a faint warmth on his palm, and suddenly, the whole system shrank back in on itself, leaving the cosmos trapped inside the gem and both of them back in Shinichi's home. “Well, that was weird.” Though he'd lost sight of Shinichi earlier, he was barely three steps from Shinichi's seat. It skewed distance somehow.

“That's an understatement. You disappeared, and now we're back here. What is that thing?” Shinichi asked, eyeing the gem in his hand like it was a venomous snake poised to strike.

 _It's what lets us do this,_ Kaito thought. As he did, the gem pulsed with faint light. _Interesting!_ Another pulse. “We should try touching it together again. Maybe the action in reverse will cure us?”

“So it can kill us? Or take us somewhere else?” Shinichi asked. “Or do something equally as nefarious?”

“Who knows?” Kaito said, shrugging, holding his palm out, gem in the middle of it.

Shinichi reached out his hand, pausing. _I really don't want to be cured._ Before Kaito could answer, it was sandwiched between their palms as Shinichi linked their fingers together. They left a gap enough for moonlight to get through and held it up to the sliver. It turned warm, appearing to absorb the moonlight, but otherwise there was no change.

Kaito loosened his grip on Shinichi's hand a little, and the gem soared out of their hands, blackening the room again. This time, they were in a different part of the sky. “Pegasus. Andromeda, Aquarius, Cygnus, Lyra,” Kaito said.

Shinichi cocked his head to the side. “I hear humming again. Louder this time, more structured. Almost like strings.”

Kaito poked at Lyra. “You can't be serious.” A star in Lyra started twinkling—Orihime—as well as the tail of Cygnus. Kaito looked expectantly at Aquila, but Hikoboshi didn't light, which meant it had nothing to do with the Lovers. It didn't have anything to do with the Summer Triangle asterism either, then. Pity.

“I am.” Shinichi frowned. “What's the significance? I mean I know a little, but I’m not as familiar as you are.”

 _If not the Triangle or Tanabata, then_ “Cygnus is properly associated with Leda, or one of the labours of Hercules, but Orpheus was turned into a swan after his murder in some legends, placed next to his harp. Also notable as the supposed writer of the Orphic Hymns. He took a trip to the Underworld to rescue his bride, Eurydice, after she was killed by...a snake.” A bad feeling crawled its way up Kaito's spine. _Just a coincidence, or something more sinister?_

 _What?_ Shinichi asked.

“Just an odd coincidence, that's all.” But his skin prickled with foreboding omen.

“There's no such thing as coincidence. Tell me.”

“Well, I'm no bride,” Kaito laughed, high and tittering and unnatural. “But there is a man named Snake who likes shooting at me at heists. He has a fondness for black, as it were.” Shinichi sat up straight. “And Serpens Caput and Cauda,” he said slowly, coming to a realisation as the sky rearranged itself to show the constellations of both the head and tail of Serpens and Ophiuchus.

“And there was Scorpion who nearly took your eye, and the constellation Scorpius,” Shinichi said, thoughts on the same track. “Do you know of any others?” he asked, voice dark.

“Spider and Rose, but I don't think they are full operatives. I don't think Scorpion was a full operative either, when we faced her. She'd gone freelance. But she could have been at one time,” Kaito said. “In fact, with her focus on Russian relics, it would make sense to have a connection with a ring of thieves.”

“Just thieves?” Shinichi asked.

“Shinichi. They murder whoever gets in their way. They’ll also kill you if you refuse to work for them.” Kaito took a deep breath. Shinichi already knew most of it, and Kaito still had no idea if the hit had been for him or Shinichi. If they knew his civilian identity...Now or never. “That's what happened to my father. He was the original Kaitou Kid. They wanted him to find something for them. He refused, so they messed with his equipment at one of his shows. Investigators called it an equipment failure, but it wasn't. It was them. They sabotaged him. He was always so careful, checking it obsessively before each show. 'Kaito,’” he rumbled in a deep voice, “'Take care of your equipment, and it will take care of you.’ Him, careless?” He shook his head. “No way.”

“And that's what you're searching for, isn't it? Whatever they wanted him to find,” Shinichi said, reaching out, grabbing his hands. “Don't hurt yourself, Kaito.” He looked down. His knuckles were white. He'd clenched his fists so hard, he'd left little half-moons in his palms. He linked his hands with Shinichi instead, his warmth calming him.

“I _need_ to find it before they do. I'll destroy it. So they can't use it. So they can't hurt anybody again.”

“So you return whatever isn't it, and you continue the search.”

“Yeah. Pandora, they call it. The weeping gem. A natural doublet. Held up to the moonlight, the gem inside turns red, and on the eve of Volley's Comet, it will cry, and if you drink it, you'll become immortal.”

“'The jewel that flashed not red in the moonlight, but blue,’” Shinichi quoted. “I thought it was odd how you phrased that. It's also another reason you weren't surprised by what this jewel did.”

“Right. If anything, it's proved that finding Pandora is a dire necessity. I don't know what this is, but if it can exist, so can Pandora. And it's a doublet too, if the universe inside the yellow exterior can be called that.”

“I won't argue with that,” Shinichi said, watching the stars collide around them. “How did you call it back earlier?”

“I grabbed it from the middle of the galaxy.” But before Kaito could stand, Shinichi twitched his fingers and the gem stopped hovering and flew into his hand, and the multitude of stars disappeared again.

Kaito pouted. “I think it likes you more than it likes me.”

Shinichi blinked, and then he said, “I think it's because you were wearing gloves and my hand was bare, so my connection to it is deeper, somehow?” But he didn't look very certain.

Kaito tapped his chin. “Now that you mention it, I did have a rip in my glove, and when you tried to wrest it away, you pressed it against my bare skin in the moonlight.”

Shinichi made a satisfied noise. “So we have the initial activation by touch and moonlight that linked us together, the same that didn't reverse it and instead projected our universe, and humming that sounds clearer when we touch it together,” Shinichi summarised, rolling the jewel in his hand. “These are the clues, but what do they point to? We don't have enough evidence. We should—”

But what Shinichi thought they should do Kaito didn't find out, for Shinichi let out a great jaw-cracking yawn. “Ah, no more thinking. You should sleep. You've had a rough day, and it's long past time,” Kaito said.

“But—” Shinichi tried to feebly protest. Kaito leaned back into the cushions and pulled Shinichi to his chest, wrapping his arms around him, running his hands over the soft hair on his forearms. He plucked the gem from his hand, tucking it back against his heart as a matter of habit.

“But nothing. I've got you.” Kaito placed a kiss on Shinichi's forehead. “Relax. Sleep.”

Shinichi was already half-asleep. “Mmm, _koi_ ,” he said, snuggling against his stomach.

Kaito's heart jumped at the odd mention of carp, then he relaxed as he realised Shinichi meant love instead. Perhaps short for sweetheart or boyfriend, _koibito_. “What am I going to do with you, precious?” he murmured. Shinichi didn't answer, fully asleep, the stress of the day having worn him out entirely.

He'd been so scared today. Shinichi, nearly gunned down by a man in black, and he hadn't been there. He couldn't do anything.

Kaito was tired of reacting. Tired of dodging bullets. Tired of drawing them out at heists when it clearly wasn't working. Kaito and Shinichi did have a passing resemblance; they had either realised Shinichi was alive or they had finally gone after Touichi’s son. Either way, passivity was no longer an option.

Whether it was Snake or the remnants of Shinichi's Black Organisation, whether they were different or the same, one thing was very clear:

Kaito was going to have to take the fight to them.

 


	5. The Confession

Shinichi woke slowly, warm and relaxed but a little stiff to the plucking of strings. He nuzzled into his comfortable pillow, frowning as it shifted. _Wait._ He opened his eyes. Somehow, he’d managed to end up in Kaito's lap, and his face was awfully close to—he turned a furious red. Kaito was hard, perhaps a product of Shinichi's unconscious movement.

Shinichi swallowed, still half asleep, then he inched up, pressing his lips against the fabric and mouthing the outline of his erection, tracing it with his tongue. Kaito shifted again in his sleep.

His brain shorted out as he awakened fully and realised what he was doing. He pulled away a bit, intending to get up. He felt the briefest flicker of something over the link: something like a sense of loss. Curious and willing to test it, he moved back up, nuzzling against Kaito's hip. Warmth flooded through him, and an image flashed through his mind.

A dark bedroom. A soft bed. Hands, gliding across skin. Kaito's wrists tied above his head, Shinichi's blue tie gagging him, his back arching, pulse pounding.

Shinichi wrenched his mind away, hiding his face against Kaito's thigh, willing it to stop burning as his heart raced in his chest, a warm feeling threading its way down his spine. Oh, that was new. One, that tie was silk and saliva couldn't be good for it, and two, oh god he was dreaming of Shinichi—he couldn't expect—he didn't expect—but Shinichi would, if Kaito asked. He was finding he'd do just about anything if he asked. Kaito was right. That jewel did have them both acting out of character. Shinichi still didn't want the effect to go away. That was part of it, too—had to be. But he didn't care.

Kaito twitched his hips, searching for friction from dream-Shinichi. Real Shinichi was contemplating. The image had come through, bright and clear, almost tangible, especially for a dream.

Making a decision, Shinichi grabbed Kaito's hand, linking their fingers together to strengthen the connection, closed his eyes, and concentrated on the image he’d seen, willing himself back into that place, clearing his mind. He found a faint pulse, a little thin thread of light that was more of an impression. Following felt like wading through hip-deep mud, but he managed.

He floated in a dark space, reminiscent of last night's void, hearing that humming sound again, this time from above. A bright light twinkled like a star through the veil of the atmosphere, and then it fell towards him, leaving a wide streak of gold in the air that resembled a path. The golden light called to him, beckoning him as if it wished to lead him somewhere.

He hung there weightless for a long moment, then it shifted with all the cohesion of a dream to a bedroom he’d never seen, complete with a floor-to-ceiling portrait of a man he didn’t know. Something about him carried an air of familiarity though, especially the eyes and the way he held himself. Shinichi had seen him somewhere before. He was sure of it.

The man resembled—“Kaito?” He called out, testing his theory.

“Just a second!” he heard from behind the portrait. About a minute later, Kaito came flying out from behind the portrait and tackled Shinichi to the floor, arms around his neck. It didn't stop Shinichi from noticing the back of the portrait was the same man dressed as Kaitou Kid. Kaito's father? He had to be.

“Ah, you came! I was afraid you wouldn't make it!” Kaito said, snuggling against his chest.

Shinichi tentatively wrapped his arms around him. “Of course I did,” Shinichi said, not knowing what else to say.

Kaito made to speak again, but everything faded in a wash of white, and they were left back in that dark void. ”Shinichi?” he said, uncertain. “How did we get here?”

Shinichi smiled, sheepish. “I fell into your dream. Sorry.”

“How—” Kaito began, but then something sparked, the humming grew louder, and they both rode the wave to wakefulness. Shinichi found himself back in Kaito's lap as Kaito blinked the sleep from his eyes. “What was that?”

“We can add dream-sharing to the list,” Shinichi said.

“You saw that?” Kaito asked, rubbing at his chest.

“The bedroom?” Shinichi said, as Kaito bit his lip. “Yeah.” Shinichi's neck ached a little since looking up put him at such an awkward angle, so he rested his head on Kaito's thigh again. Kaito stilled because yeah, he was suffering from a certain morning affliction, and Shinichi was close enough any movement added friction.

Shinichi licked his lips, noting Kaito's eyes following the movement from the corner of his own. He pressed a questioning kiss against the fabric. Kaito shuddered, tilting his head back, letting out a hiss of breath, and made to speak, but he couldn’t quite manage it. “You want to?” Kaito said, breathless, when he found his voice again.

“Yeah,” Shinichi said, and he unzipped his fly, dragging the zipper down ever so slowly. Light pink lace met his eyes, and he tried to tell himself that he wasn't turned on. He was lying. He'd been angry when the Kaitou Kid pulled out a lace set Shinichi thought was Ran's, but now the thought it might have been Kaito's sent a thrill tingling down his spine, compounded by Kaito’s very real anticipation. _First rule of any disguise: be thorough,_ he thought, Kaito’s voice echoing in his head alongside the memory of those words, and Kaito laughed.

Shinichi drew him out, and he just stared for a long moment. He hadn't realised it before, but Kaito was big. And he was supposed to put that in his mouth? He faltered for a moment, and then he set his jaw. He was not going to be intimidated. He’d done it for him, no problem.

He licked his lips again, nervous. Tentatively, he pressed a kiss to the side, tongue darting out to give it a sweep. Not bad. Just skin. It tasted a little like salt and sweat. Kaito shifted, running his fingers through Shinichi's hair in encouragement. Then he went back to work, licking Kaito like a dessert, sure his technique was sloppy. Kaito didn't seem to mind as he let out a slow, controlled breath and spread his legs wider, giving Shinichi better access.

Shinichi grew bolder, running the sharp tip of his tongue from head to base again and again, lapping at the underside as Kaito’s breath quickened. He took him in his mouth as far as he could—ooh, too sharp, not good—tucked his teeth behind his lips, and added a little suction, massaging him with his tongue, moving his head up and down slowly to get used to the strange feeling, holding him steady, pumping with the fingers of one hand while the other one inched its way up Kaito's shirt and traced the lean muscle of his abdomen, feeling him breathe and flex against his bandaged palm. Kaito's other hand joined his, resting on top, rubbing circles over his fingers in a soothing manner.

The longer Shinichi worked, the easier it became. It had a rhythm to it, a pattern. Like a mystery, the clues were there: it was all in how Kaito moved, how he reacted to the changes in pressure, the places he touched. It was an interesting study of which Shinichi didn't think he'd ever get tired, figuring out which way to drive him insane, every breathy “Shinichi!” driving him to work harder.

He could feel himself, but using what he had found out about ignoring the pain on his hands so it wouldn’t broadcast, he deliberately focused his entire being on Kaito and what he was feeling instead, dulling the sensation for himself. He couldn’t block it entirely, but it helped.

His motions grew more frantic as he distantly felt Kaito’s pleasure start to build. A hand pulling his hair, a startled thrust Shinichi moved with, Kaito pistoning inside his mouth as he hit his climax with a cry. Shinichi didn’t pull away as he felt the twitch of their release. Bitter and oddly earthy, Kaito’s wasn't terrible, so Shinichi swallowed it down, so much more than he was expecting. Enough so that some dribbled out of the corner of his mouth.

Kaito gazed down at him with wild eyes. “Shinichi, you—” he said, at a loss for words.

Shinichi wasn’t any better. “Kaito, I—”

 _That was amazing_ , Kaito thought. “You _are_ a bold thing, aren't you, precious?” He pulled Shinichi up and licked the corner of his mouth clean before kissing him deeply. Shinichi found that unbelievably hot and moaned into his mouth, the bitter taste mingling on their tongues.

 _You and your pet names,_ Shinichi thought, fondly exasperated. It was clear by now he wasn’t going to stop comparing him to a gem. _What am I supposed to call you?_

 _Koi_ , Kaito thought, laughing into the kiss, pulling away a bit and resting their foreheads together. _Love_. _That's what you called me last night._

Shinichi’s brow furrowed. _I don't remember._ Kaito laughed again, grinning wide. _What's so funny?_

“Can you keep a secret~” Kaito whispered into Shinichi's ear, biting the lobe, nibbling up the edge.

He shuddered, the heat racing down his spine. “Mmhmm,” Shinichi said.

Kaito traced 鯉 on Shinichi's arm, the faintest curl of fear rising at the word. The kanji for carp. “This _koi_ frightens me.” He followed it with 恋, the kanji for love. “This _koi,_ not so much, though it should. And yet, I find myself no longer caring, either way.”

“You were laughing at yourself,” Shinichi murmured. “At your fear.”

“Yes. It's a terribly wonderful pun.” Kaito winked, and then pressed a kiss to the tip of Shinichi's nose. “Or wonderfully terrible.”

“Are you afraid of just those?” Shinichi asked. “I felt a brief flash of fear when I used a general idiom with Hakuba.”

Kaito laughed again. “Tactful, you are. I’d thought you’d caught that. No, it’s all of them. I can work through it if I have to, but I'd really rather not.”

“Then why?” Shinichi asked, genuinely curious.

”...I rather liked it,” Kaito said and kissed him again. “It’s the name you chose for me.” They lay like that for a while, Shinichi's body covering Kaito's, kissing, slow and easy and languid, Kaito running his fingers through Shinichi's hair, Shinichi content to just use Kaito as a pillow.

“I don’t have to call you that,” Shinichi said, pressing soft kisses against his neck’s pulse. “We can find something else.”

“Think of it as, hmm, exposure therapy,” Kaito said, running his hand under his shirt up Shinichi’s spine. “I’ll be fine. It’s my choice.”

“Just let me know if it gets too much?” Shinichi said.

-

“Yes,” Kaito said, his favourite critic wrapped in his arms. Oh, it was too late. Kaito was already far too gone to stop it. He still didn't want to name it, but it didn't make it any less true.

Love.

And not the I-want-to-have-sex-on-every-available-surface type, either, though that was fun. Not lust. Not physical attraction, though he did admit to feeling both those things as well, strongly.

No. It wasn't that shallow. It was a deep passionate wellspring that bubbled up, drowning everything in the ebb and flow, the kind that hurt to feel because it had the strength to tear away everything, to turn the world on its head.

And maybe it was artifice at the beginning. Maybe it had been an unnaturally quick process. It didn't change what it was now. Real, not the smoke and mirrors of the magician's trade. Maybe that's what happened when something like the jewel stripped all layers away, so they were able to meet one another how they truly were: no lies, no secrets, no false fronts. And he felt love, so much bigger than he was, met with Shinichi’s answering wave of the same through the link.

The depth of it scared him. Kaito was used to the way things were. He lived a perfectly contented life. Sometimes, it had been a little lonely, but he had family, friends. The adoration of an audience of millions who loved his nighttime antics. Sure, that was tinged with Snake and his ilk, his search for the jewel and the memory of his father, but it was his, all the same. It wasn’t about completion: Kaito was already whole. He didn’t need anyone to complete him. It was about becoming more. Connecting, mind and soul. Two halves of one whole. Becoming something greater than the sum of its parts.

 _Kaito?_ Shinichi asked, questioning. Shinichi certainly felt what Kaito was feeling right now, evidenced by his serious, almost anxious expression, and his eyes searched Kaito's own in the dim light.

 _Never you mind_ , Kaito said, running his thumb over the curve of Shinichi’s cheek, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. He frowned as he pulled away. A faint melodious sound reminiscent of a stringed instrument drifted up towards his ears. He cocked his ear to the side, listening. “Do you hear that?” he murmured, a little unsettled.

“It’s just the same humming from last night,” Shinichi said, tapping the jewel over Kaito’s heart. “Coming from this. I hear it, too.”

“No, it has a definite melody,” Kaito said. “I thought my part of the connection wasn’t strong enough for me to—Oh,” he said faintly. “That’s not the reason.”

Shinichi furrowed his brow. “Then what is?”

Something compelled him to speak. His mouth had already formed the word before he clamped it shut. Kaito struggled to keep silent for a long moment, but the word burst forth from his mind before he could stop it. _Love_.

“You don’t mean you—” Shinichi began, eyes wide.

Kaito gave him a wry smile. _They say music is the language of the soul, after all._ He rubbed at his chest. _It seems the jewel doesn’t want me to lie, even by omission, in addition to effecting our behaviour._

“Certainly gives a new meaning to star-crossed.” Shinichi said after a long pause.

“A phantom thief and his most vibrant critic? Snipers and shadowy figures in the dark? This has a very real chance of ending in tragedy,” Kaito said.

“Not if I can help it.” Shinichi said, levering himself up and to the side, resting against the back of the seating. Kaito felt the loss of heat immediately.

“Nor I.”

“Something has to be done. The moon is setting, but there's still enough light to work with. Do you mind if I experiment alone?” Shinichi asked, hand rubbing his chin. He appeared to be deep in thought, contemplating. “There's something I want to try without distraction.”

Kaito perked up. “You have an idea?” Shinichi nodded. Kaito reached into his clothing and pulled out the yellow diamond, dropping it into Shinichi's hand. “Be careful,” he pressed. “I'll be here if you need me. Don't get lost.”

Shinichi waved him off, nodding, so Kaito stood, stretching his arms, popping his back.

He wandered off to Shinichi's room, intent on finding the laptop he'd only caught a glimpse of. It was a sleek, silver little thing, thin, top-of-the-line, and very close to brand new.

He sat down at Shinichi's desk, turned on the desk lamp, and booted it up, but it was password protected. Much to his amusement it only took two tries to get in. Shinichi was very predictable. He tinkered around for a bit, making sure it was a secure connection. He grinned and brought up the web chat. It shouldn't be too late in Paris.

It rang for a bit, and then they picked up. “Kaito dear, it’s noon here. You're up early,” Kuroba Chikage said. Las Vegas didn't quite have the glam in the day that it did at night, but Kaito could tell where she was from the skyline alone, easily visible through the window behind the bed. “I was just about to hit the lounge.”

“It’s four am. Not that early. You're in Nevada? I thought you'd gone back to Paris for a while, Mum.”

“I did, for a little while, but then they advertised a new magician headlining here. He’s supposedly the new rising star in the world of magic. I had to see. Of course, he couldn't compare to your father.”

“Who can?”

“Ever the truth. Speaking of, Saturday was absolutely wonderful! Your use of mirrors was particularly inventive!”

“Ah, thanks. It was one of the old man’s ideas.” He left out “that he never got to use.” Neither one of them needed to hear it.

“I was actually thinking about coming home for a while,” his mother said.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” he said, taking out a coin and flipping it between his knuckles.

“Kaito, what's wrong?” Her eyes widened as she took in the dim background. “You're not at home,” she realised. “What's going on?”

“Mum, I need you to talk to Ekoda High to let me take the finals early and excuse me from the last few weeks of school. I need to leave for a while,” he said. “Check some stuff out. I could do it, but I thought you might like to know.”

“But you'll miss graduation! I was planning on being there! And White Day! What will Aoko-chan think?”

“Ahoko gives me obligation chocolate every year, not romantic chocolate, so I doubt she'll even notice,” Kaito said. “Besides, maybe I'll send something Swiss to her house or something. I don't have to be there to do that.”

“Kaito—”

“Besides she's really angry with me at the moment, threatening me with the F-word last time we talked.”

“Kaito, why is she angry? Tell me what's going on.”

“Kaito?” Shinichi asked. Kaito turned. Shinichi stepped in his room, his dart watch primed.

“Borrowed your laptop, precious; don't worry, I’ll return it better than I found it.” The coin flipped faster.

“You cracked the password?” Shinichi asked, frowning.

“ _Please._ 1-101_M35? You're completely predictable.”

“Kaito, who is that?” sounded faintly through the computer's speakers.

“Nobody, Mum,” Kaito said with a pointed look at Shinichi.

'Mum?’ Shinichi mouthed.

“I'm not going to withdraw you from school unless you tell me what's going on right now.”

“You're withdrawing?” Shinichi asked, narrowing his eyes at him. “Why?”

“No, I'm taking a leave of absence. Difference!” He waved his hand, “Besides, I’ll do it myself if I have to.”

Shinichi walked into the view of the webcam and gave a bow, head down and hands at the sides. “Hello, Kuroba-san. Sorry to cause you trouble.”

Her mouth hung open, her face stunned. “You're Shin-chan!” Kaito's mother said before Shinichi could introduce himself, her face intent.

“I’m sorry?” Shinichi squeaked.

“You are, aren't you? Yukiko’s boy. Oh, you are absolutely darling! Look at you all grown up! You have your mother's eyes, her nice cheekbones, and her chin, but the rest of your features are your father’s.”

“Yes…?”

“Mum, what's going on?” Kaito asked. “How did you know?”

“Didn't you know? Your father and Shin-chan’s were friends! I haven't seen Yuu-kun or Yuki-chan in ages!” she sobered. “Since Touichi’s funeral, actually. I asked them to stay away, though Yuusaku checks in every now and again. I've kind of missed seeing Touichi's big brother, but needs must. The same reason why you're not wanting me to come home, no?”

“Big brother?” Shinichi breathed, face paling.

Kaito made a strangled noise. “We aren't actually related, are we?” he asked weakly. Bit late for that knowledge. Wait, different last names. “We're not, right?”

“Of course not! Just your father’s idea of a joke—You know how he liked to ‘Kid’ around, so it made him the younger brother.” Kaito and Shinichi breathed identical sighs of relief. “Why would that matter?” she began, before giving them a knowing look as she came to a realisation. “Oh!” Kaito's mother held her hand up to her mouth. “I approve!” She smiled brilliantly for a moment before pursing her lips and wagging her finger at Kaito, her face turning stern. “But I still expect grandchildren~”

“Muuuum,” Kaito whined.

“How did you meet? I want to know _all_ the details,” she said, leaning forward.

Shinichi and Kaito looked at each other for a long moment before Kaito admitted, “On a rooftop in the moonlight.”

Kaito's mother actually squealed, hands over her heart. “Was he in his suit, Shin-chan? He was, wasn't he? I'll bet he was so handsome!”

 _Does she know you're Kid?_ Shinichi asked.

 _Of course. She’s the Phantom Lady. I could hardly hide it from her, even if I wanted to._ Kaito didn't even think before he spoke, startled to realise he trusted him that much. _Didn't we have this conversation before?_ He frowned. _I swear we did. The Ryouma job._

 _...That's true. I'd forgotten. Your whole family,_ Shinichi thought back at him, swallowing. “He was, actually.”

She sighed. “So romantic! Why, when Touichi and I met, he cut such a stunning figure in that suit. So gallant! Glad to see that hasn't skipped a generation.”

Shinichi smiled softly at Kaito. “Yeah. He's something else, all right.”

Kaito caught his mum watching Shinichi with a fond smile. “One day, I'll have to tell you the story of how Touichi and I met, Shin-chan."

"Yeah, if you have about six hours to kill. I am _not_ going through that again," Kaito muttered. Shinichi laughed, the traitor.

His mother ignored him with the ease of long practice. "So are you an author, Shin-chan? Maybe an actor?” his mum asked Shinichi. “You certainly have the looks for it.”

Shinichi blushed. It was cute. “Detective, actually.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh really? And you know?” Shinichi nodded. She giggled. “Kaito, I didn’t know you had it in you!”

Kaito pouted, “I could hardly hide it from him! Besides, he’s mostly homicide. He calls my performances 'a fun diversion from murder.’”

“Is that so?” Chikage said, her eyes narrowing. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with why you’re asking for a leave?”

“I’ll keep him safe,” Shinichi blurted out, surprising both of the Kurobas. Chikage's gaze softened even more, and Kaito knew she was thinking of herself and his father.

“Shinichi—” Kaito said. “Look, Mama; it turns out Shinichi and I might have a little bit more in common with my old man than we thought. We're pretty sure it's the same people.”

His mother knew how serious it was and exactly what he was implying. The people after her had been bad enough his father had invented the Kid persona to protect and draw attention away from her. She paled and bit the knuckle of her forefinger.

“If not exactly the same group, then close enough to work in the same sphere without problems. We're nowhere close to identical, but we do look close enough it could cause problems for both of us,” Shinichi said.

“Be careful, boys,” she said. “I don't want to lose my son or my future son-in-law!” Shinichi blushed again at her words. Oh, the flushed skin was so very lovely.

Kaito elbowed Shinichi. “He's survived the worst they had to offer. They haven't managed to catch me yet. What's next will be nothing.”

“Hey!”

She nodded. “Kaito, Shin-chan: Give 'em hell.” She smirked, oddly reminiscent of Kaito's own shark grin. “There's a few things I can do here to keep eyes off you. I think it's time to dust off my wings, no?”

“Mum, it's dangerous—” Kaito said.

She winked. “Please, Kai-bou, I've been doing this longer than you've been alive. So what's a year or twenty?”

“Don't call me that! Unless you really want me to end up in a morgue, ugh!” He shuddered.

His mother laughed. “Keep an eye on the news! It was nice meeting you, Shin-chan!” She started to close her laptop, then paused. “Oh, I'm Kuroba Chikage, if you didn't know, but you can call me Oba-chan! Not Obaa! Kaito made that mistake with Yuki-chan! I'll call right now!” She said as she disconnected.

“So that's your mother, huh?” Shinichi said.

“Yeah.”

"She's...interesting."

"That's a word for it."

“What do you think she's planning?” Shinichi asked.

 _Probably a heist, Kid style._ “She picked up on how serious this was.”

There was a long pause as Shinichi digested that information, then Shinichi said, “Now what's this about a 'leave of absence?’”

“Just a few things to take care of.”

“You mind thinking that at me?”

“Shinichi—”

“I'm not an idiot. Yesterday, I get shot at, and now you’re leaving?” Shinichi folded his arms across his chest. “Doesn't take a detective to figure that one out.”

“It’s not enough! Sitting here, waiting for them to come to us! You may be able to do it but I can’t! They'll kill us both!” Kaito said, breathing hard. Frustration rolled through the link, coiling around Shinichi's heart. He wasn't angry, not truly. Afraid, yes.

“Fine. But we do it smart. And there's no way you're leaving me behind.”

“You're already behind, mister I-was-gone-for-two-years.”

 _Trapped as a child. Do you know how boring elementary school is when you can't draw attention to yourself?_ “I can have my finals and make-up exams finished by the end of the week. I've got a special dispensation because of my detective work. It’s all excused. All I have to do is tell them I'm on a new case. That's not an untruth.”

“Now that's just unfair!” Kaito huffed. Then he tilted his head to the side, thoughtful. “They might use our friends to draw us out.”

“We might just have to take that chance. I can't risk being at Teitan, not after yesterday,” Shinichi said, rubbing his bandaged hands. “Ran, Sonoko, Sera…Too many people could be caught in the crossfire.”

“Same,” Kaito said. He stood, grimacing at his wrinkled uniform, and looked at the clock. “There's still time to clean my uniform. Now why don't you tell me about your experiment?”

“Sure! See, I thought the humming might be a form of musical cryptography, a sort of steganography—”

-

Ran rang at the gate, but nobody answered, so she let herself in with her key. She toed off her shoes in the genkan and changed into slippers, noticing two other sets of shoes as she did. It was odd. One was Shinichi’s, but she didn't recognise the other pair, a set of masculine dress shoes. She frowned. She hadn’t heard Hattori was in town, and a client wouldn’t be here this early. Same for any of Shinichi’s contacts.

She'd sent a quick mail to Shinichi, letting him know that she'd be coming over so they could walk to school together, but he hadn’t responded to her mail. Nothing unusual about that. Maybe he was still asleep, but he was usually an early riser.

“Shinichi?” She called out, moving through the massive house. Still nothing. She headed into the kitchen as she heard a masculine voice belt out into song.

As she entered, she saw a person bent over, rummaging through Shinichi's refrigerator like he owned the place. And what they were wearing didn't leave much to the imagination: wireless headphones, a pair of lacy pink underwear (that were riding up, showing a fair amount of toned flesh) and a tight crop top that showed a lean muscular back. Also a light blue apron with frills, presumably to protect his bare midriff as he used the cooker.

Ran’s mouth went a little dry. _Hello, muscles._ She was no Sonoko, but hey, half-naked man with a nice body. “Um, excuse me,” she started, but as he went on singing it was clear he couldn't hear her. Just what was this one doing in Shinichi's house?  
  
He pulled out a container of what looked like leftover miso soup, sticking it in the microwave, still singing. He slid a small plate with a rolled omelette and some steamed vegetables across the counter, scooping two bowls of rice from the rice cooker, then started singing into a celery stick he pulled from somewhere like it was a microphone.

He had an incredibly wide vocal range. And then he turned around, and Ran's jaw dropped. This person could _be_ Shinichi, but Shinichi sounded like a dying cat when he sang. This person had an excellent singing voice, so he couldn't be Shinichi. His eyes went wide as he saw her, and he stilled before his face shuttered into something impassive.

Ran knew of only one person that looked that much like Shinichi but wasn't. “Kaitou Kid?”

The Kid slid down his headphones, resting them on his neck, opened his mouth, started to say something, thought better of it, and closed it again. “Uh, no.” he said. Ran didn't believe him one bit. She crossed her arms and started tapping her foot. “Don't kill me…?” He begged, hands in the air.

What was he talking about? Oh right, he’d pretended to be Shinichi and nearly groped her that one time. She'd completely forgotten about it until he brought it up. Actually, she could pin most of the bizarre Shinichi encounters on him. Maybe he was talking about the time he gassed her and left her in a lifeboat. Or made her fly a plane with no training. It could be a number of things he was fearing retribution for, actually. And he looked younger than she thought. Considering what he was wearing, it had to be his real face. “Are you going to do it again?” She asked dryly, leaving it vague.

“Noooo?” He tilted his head, thinking. “At least not without your permission,” he allowed.

She frowned. The Kid took a step back, frilly apron swishing, the incongruity of which was kind of comical. Any of the things she'd thought of would be kind of odd, even with permission. She told him so. “Why would you do it again even with permission?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but then Shinichi walked in, half-naked, shirtless but wearing his uniform trousers, much to Ran’s relief (okay, she still kind of liked him, and Shinichi was built, too) his hair still damp from the shower. “You made breakfast?”

“And coffee, too,” Kid said.

“Kaitou, this is why I love you,” Shinichi said seriously, pressing his face against Kid’s neck, looping his arms around his waist. Kid returned the gesture, and Shinichi untied the apron, taking it off and tossing it aside, pressing his lips against the underside of his jaw.

She glanced at the Kid who was looking at her over Shinichi's shoulder with a resigned expression like he was waiting to be decked.

“Shinichi—” the Kid began, probably to tell him about her, but Shinichi captured his mouth in a kiss, pressing him back against the countertop. Kid grabbed him lower than was socially acceptable, pulling them together, resting his hands on the curve of his bottom and squeezing.

Shinichi _let him._

Ran's eyes widened and her mouth fell open at the exchange. There was tongue, and she kind of wanted to fan herself. Suddenly, the marks on Shinichi's bare torso made sense. This was what Shinichi had been struggling with. No wonder.

Which meant—oh. Ran blushed. “That kind of permission?” she eeped.

Shinichi jumped away from Kid, then tried to cover himself with his arms. Which was kind of funny. Detectives were supposed to be observant, and he hadn't noticed her until now. But if she had someone that attractive waiting for her, she might not either. “Ran! I can explain—” he said, turning pale.

“No need!” She held up her hands, “I get it, things change. It's a relief, actually, that this is the reason.” _It wasn't me._

“Huh?” Shinichi said. “What do you mean?”

“That you're, well. You were talking about lies and secrets, what was I supposed to think? I'd never hate you for liking men!”

“Right,” Shinichi said faintly. “That’s, um. Hmm.” He kind of looked like he was going to pass out. The Kaitou Kid reached out a hand to steady him. She attempted to keep her eyes up; she was not going to look at the Kid’s Adonis belt or just how little the scrap of pink fabric covered, nuh-uh. _Fantastic abs._ Nope. She failed miserably.

“And as for you, Kaitou Kid, I should turn you in,” she said to Kid with her hands on her hips. “Or at least slap you for playing with my feelings. But I won't. Because Shinichi looks happy. Happier and more open than I've seen him in a long time.” _Even with me._ “However,” she pointed her finger at him. “If you play with his feelings, or hurt him in any way—”

“He’s not,” Shinichi protested.

“You called him Kaitou,” Ran pointed out. “That's hardly keeping it a secret.”

“Your little lady is sharp, Detective-kun.” He turned to her. “I swear to you, milady, the thought has never even crossed my mind. I am courting Shinichi with utmost sincerity,” Kid produced a white rose out of seemingly thin air and gave it to her. Where could he have even kept it in that getup? “With your permission, of course. And my sincerest apologies for before.”

Ran shot him her most suspicious look, then took it from him. When nothing went off or exploded in her face, she smiled. “Good.” Them she turned to her erstwhile boyfriend. “I just don't understand why it's him, Shinichi. He's a thief.”

“It's a long story,” Shinichi said, slumping against the counter.

“Not terribly long,” the Kid said. “I'm charming, attractive, skilled, professional,” he continued, counting them off on his fingers, “Absolutely fantastic in bed—”

“Kaitou!” Shinichi said, face turning a furious red, covering his mouth with his hand, squeaking when the Kid licked his fingers, slow and sensual. Shinichi jerked his hand away.

“So you seduced him?” Ran asked, cracking her knuckles.

The Kaitou Kid held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Not at all, milady. It was he that seduced me, if one must point fingers. Touching, caressing me ever so slowly after chasing me in the moonlight~ Not to mention that brilliant mind of his. I may be the magician, but I am completely under his spell.”

Shinichi buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“Shinichi? Is that true?” Ran crossed her arms.

“Um, mostly? He's being a little overdramatic about it,” Shinichi ignored Kid's cry of “Showman!” completely, “but yeah, I started it,” he said to the floor.

Ran had probably been listening to Sonoko’s rhapsodies of Kid sweeping her off her feet for too long. Speaking of Sonoko, Ran swore to herself then and there she could never know. She already didn't like Shinichi; their rivalry had no limits. They sniped at each other constantly. If she found out Kid was Shinichi's boyfriend? She shuddered.

And it was typical of Shinichi to be bold and go for what he wanted, no matter the obstacles in his way, though he was just as timid about affection as ever, evidenced by his still burning face staring determinedly at the floor.

“He's not bad in bed either,” Kid offered, jerking Ran from her thoughts. She stared.

Shinichi sputtered. “Kaitou!” He shot him a look.

Kid raised his hands. “Fine, fine. I'll stop teasing, my precious gem.”

“I'm still not a gem, _koi._ ” Shinichi said, stressing the last word, his tone long-suffering.

Kid grinned. “ _Touché_.”

Ran blinked. Kid...called Shinichi his precious gem. That was actually kind of adorable. “How did you even meet, anyway? You were at the Ekoda Clock Tower heist, but it was a fly-by, right? I remember you bragging about it.”

Shinichi winced. “About that—”

Kaitou cut in. “We've known each other for years. We met while he was on a case. Then Shinichi came to my heist Saturday night, and well, you can say we 'connected,’ so to speak.”

Shinichi laughed. “That _is_ a way to put it.”

“That being said, there is a reason we're working together now,” Kaitou said.

“Kaitou—” Shinichi warned.

“You should tell her so she is aware of the danger,” Kid pressed. “They will come after them. Keeping them ignorant does nothing.”

_What?_

“Kaitou—” Shinichi said, panicking. “I can't tell her everything, not yet—”

 _Ugh, typical Shinichi!_ Ran thought, irritated.

The Kid grabbed his hand, soothing him. “We’ll tell her as much as we told Hakuba.”

“Hakuba only knows your civilian identity, it's not the same thing. He doesn't know practically everything about me like Ran—” Shinichi shot the Kid a desperate look.

Kid returned the look, face grim and eyes holding steady to Shinichi's own. “It is. She's already in danger just by being connected to you. Being ignorant won’t spare her. Hakuba will watch over everyone else for me. You don't have that luxury.”

Shinichi flinched. “You're right,” he said quietly, clasping his hands together.

Kid addressed her. “Mouri-san, are you going to turn me in?”

Ran blinked. “No. Shinichi would be devastated, and there must a reason he hasn't turned you in. You’ve helped us out a lot, even if sometimes you were a jerk about it. And you return what you steal, though it doesn't do anything about the property damage—”

“That's mostly the police,” Kid muttered.

“Just don't expect me to help out with your crimes or anything. I catch you doing anything outside a heist, I'll report you. What is this about?”

“I daren’t dream of it.” He gave a deep bow with a flourish of his hand, “My name is Kuroba Kaito,” he said, emphasising the pronunciation—it _had_ sounded a little short when Shinichi was saying it, “magician and prankster extraordinaire, at your service!” He leaned over, cupped his hand, and said, _sotto voce,_ “Don't tell Hakuba, please. I'd never live it down.” He frowned. “Then I'd go to prison. Don't tell the police either. That'd be bad.”

“Hakuba-san knows who you are?” Ran asked.

“Somewhat. He suspects me of being Kid, but he only has circumstantial evidence.” He crossed his arms and turned to Shinichi. “There. I told her my big secret. You can let go of a few of the smaller ones.”

“Kaito—” Shinichi began, stunned. “Why—?”

“Your little lady is sharp, she is. She put it together as soon as she saw me, you know. And she trusts you enough to give me the benefit of the doubt. Isn't that sweet?” Ran couldn't tell if he were being serious or sarcastic. “She'd find out anyway, since I don't plan on hiding my feelings out of costume and Hakuba knows.”

Shinichi gave him a long soulful look, then let out a big breath when Kid crossed his arms, tapped his foot, and narrowed his eyes. “Okay, you know that trip we took to Tropical Land to celebrate you winning the karate championship?”

“Like I could ever forget,” Ran said softly, her eyes filling with tears as she remembered that deep sense of loss she felt seeing his back as he ran into the distance. “You disappeared.”

“Remember those two men in black that were at the murder at the coaster?”

“Oh, you've got to be kidding,” Kuroba-san said, throwing his hands up into the air. And using that name was going to take some time for Ran to get used to. “A murder there, too?”

Shinichi ignored him. “They weren't the perpetrators, but I saw them go down a dark alley that night.” His fists clenched the fabric of his trousers so hard they whitened. “I was cocky, overconfident. I followed one of them, and sure enough, he was up to no good. It was an arms deal. Millions of yen. That was Vodka.

“Before I could leave, his boss Gin came up from behind with a steel pipe, I think—I don't know for sure what it was, pretty sure he gave me a concussion—and bashed me over the head.”

Ran put her hand over her mouth, gasping. She knew his cases were often dangerous, but he seemed invincible, even now.

Shinichi continued. “Bleeding and dazed, I was so out of it I couldn't do anything when they force-fed me an experimental poison.”

“Shinichi,” Ran said. She'd never realised how close he'd come to death. Kuroba-san just watched him, his face blank, eyes shuttered.

“I should have died. It left me with a weak body instead. I staggered out of there and hid, donning a disguise. I couldn't let you know who or where I was, because it would put you in danger. The Black Organisation doesn't like loose ends. They’ll kill you, your family, your friends, their friends...it was very dangerous to let you know I was even alive. If they'd seen us together—” Shinichi was wringing his hands unconsciously.

“Is—is the poison why you were always ill and had to rush away? Those were the times it was really you, right?” Because it seemed everyone from Kid to Hattori had impersonated him.

Shinichi's smile was flat and bitter. “No, that was the antidote. And yes, those were the times it really was me. The poison was insidious and stubborn. It took a long time to find a stable cure.”

Ran took a deep breath. “Shinichi, where were you?” _Are you going to lie to me again?_

The smile dropped away. “I don't want to tell you. Closer than you think, but I couldn't do anything but watch you. I was paralysed by fear. I wanted to tell you, several times. Almost did, once or twice. But I just couldn't.”

That sounded like—No, it couldn't be, could it? Conan was so much like Shinichi, and she'd heard nothing since his return to America a week after Shinichi came back. But he hadn't lied to her directly, this time. But he and Kuroba-san could pass for the other, and if he’d played Shinichi that first week— “Did Kuroba-san know where you were?” Ran asked.

“I figured it out on my own,” Kuroba-san said, shrugging. “Shinichi was careless and I eavesdropped.”

So it could be possible. A long lie. A big secret. It fit, no matter how impossible it seemed. Ran wanted to grab him up and shake the truth from him, hear it from his lips instead of it being talked around. But she'd promised to wait as long as he needed. Shinichi could have kept even this much quiet. Something was up. “Why are you telling me this now when you've kept it from me for two years? You said the big case was over, right?”

Shinichi looked away, staring at the wall. He didn't say anything.

Desperate, Ran pressed. “Right?”

“He was shot at yesterday, and someone nearly died,” Kuroba-san said quietly. “A man in black pulled the trigger.”

Ran's blood ran cold. “Shinichi,” she whispered, stepping over and hugging him. He clung to her like a lifeline. “Oh Shinichi, I'm so sorry.”

“I took the antidote and came back to my life because I thought it was safe. Because most of the major players had been arrested. Instead, I've put everyone in danger. Kaito's right. It's only fair to warn you,” he said to her shoulder. “All those times you've almost died. I wanted to protect you, but it didn't help.”

“Shinichi, I'm a grown woman. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself,” Ran said, pulling away and putting her hands on her hips.

“You're my closest and oldest friend, Ran. You can't fault me for wanting you to be safe. You need to be careful.”

“And now I know to keep my eyes open,” Ran reminded him. “I'll be careful. I'm more worried about you, mystery freak. It's you they're after.”

“Won’t stop them from using you as bait,” Shinichi muttered.

“Breakfast,” Kuroba-san reminded Shinichi. “It's getting cold,” he said, straightening the collar of his gakuran. Ran blinked. She hadn't even seen him change, but he was now in a dark blue school uniform, which meant he was younger than she thought, still young enough to be in high school? Unless it was another disguise. She reached over and pinched his face.

“Ow!” he said, rubbing his cheek. “So forward!”

“You’re young,” Ran said. So the new Kid and the old Kid _were_ different people.

“Yes?” A puff of smoke and suddenly Shinichi was dressed too, sans tie, which Kuroba-san proceeded to loop around his neck and knot. He patted Shinichi’s face and gave him and Ran both kisses on the cheek. “You two be good. I’ve got to go now, or I’ll miss my train.”

Ran held her hand up to her cheek, bewildered.

“I’ll see you after school?” Shinichi asked, staring at him pointedly. “Your place?”

Kuroba-san winked. “Sure.” He tapped his phone. “Mail you later?”

“Yeah.” Shinichi said, then Kuroba-san disappeared in another puff of smoke before Ran could even say anything. She blinked. He’d completely vanished. Shinichi didn’t pay it any mind, probably long used to his antics, instead shoveling down his breakfast with his chopsticks like it was going out of style.

“So Ran, why are you here?” Shinichi asked, once he’d finished his meal and cleared away the dishes.

She stared. “I thought you might like to walk to school with me? It’s been a long time since we’ve walked together besides yesterday.”

Shinichi raised an eyebrow. “You heard the part where I was shot at yesterday, right?”

“Don’t be an idiot. It won’t kill you to walk with me,” Ran said.

“It just might,” Shinichi muttered darkly as they stepped out of his house and locked up. “Or it might kill you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Ran said. Shinichi had long learned he couldn’t out-stubborn her, so it didn’t take much more talking for him to acquiesce.

They walked in silence for a bit before Shinichi turned to her. “I might be leaving again,” Shinichi said.

“I thought you might,” Ran said quietly. “At least you’re telling me this time. And at least I’ll know to watch out.” She stopped, wringing her hands. “Just tell me one thing. I know I promised not to push, and I know it probably makes me sound completely crazy even to _think_ about asking this, but Shinichi,” she swallowed. “Are you Conan?”

Shinichi froze.


	6. The Curveball

Shinichi _knew_. He knew with just a little more information, she'd figure it out. The timeline was too perfect. And something had made her bold enough to go ahead and call him out on it. He wasn't ready. But he couldn't lie to her anymore. If he didn't tell her now, he never would. “Ran, I—”

A scream rent through the air.

Shinichi whipped his head towards the sound, torn between heading towards the sound and staying. He glanced back at her and set his jaw. No. Too many times he had let things interrupt important conversations with Ran. Never again. “I—yes,” he finally said, voice miserable. He couldn't look directly at her, keeping his eyes down. “I’m Conan.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ran close her own, taking a deep breath. “Go. I know you need to check it out,” her voice was shaking, though she made an admirable attempt to keep it even.

“Ran—” He jerked his head up. She had her head turned away, her body tense, fists clenched at her side. “ _Listen_ —”

“ _Go,_ Shinichi,” she said, her voice hard. She wouldn't look at him. “We'll talk about it later.”

His heart fell to the bottom of his stomach. That was it. It was over. His closest friend and first love, gone. He knew it. He knew it. “Okay,” he whispered, sick. He took a deep breath and compartmentalised, shoving it to the back of his mind, running towards the source of the scream.

He didn't hear the way she said, ”I need time.” He didn't see the way Ran reached out to him, pain on her face, her hand outstretched, in his haste to get away.

_Shinichi?_ Kaito asked, feeling his emotional turmoil. _What's wrong?_

_Possible murder_ , Shinichi thought back. Then he found himself saying, _And Ran. She confronted me about Conan._ Great. Now the jewel’s forced honesty was affecting him too. _She knows._

_Shinichi—_

_I need to check this out. I'll worry about it later._

A wave of reassurance, of pure unadulterated joy that made Shinichi feel loads better. _I'm here if you need me._

The scream had sounded from a park about a half a block away. When he arrived, there was a jogger leaned over retching in the bushes, hands on her knees. She wore neon bright clothing, chartreuse jacket and sweats with matching trainers, and she had black hair tugged back in a messy ponytail and warm brown eyes.

“Excuse me, I thought I heard a scream from here?” Shinichi said, hands up to show he meant no harm. When she didn't answer, watching him warily, Shinichi added, “I'm a detective. Kudou Shinichi. I'm not going to hurt you.”

“S-she's d-dead,” the woman said, still eyeing him warily, gesturing to a black car in the middle of the frost-damp grass.

“Did you call the police?”

She shook her head. “I d-don't have my phone on me, just my MP3 player.”

Shinichi frowned. “What's your name?”

“S-Satou.” She took a deep breath, her voice stronger, a little more steady. “Satou Shizuka.”

“All right, Satou-san, can you tell me how you came across her?” Shinichi asked, voice pitched to be soothing. “Did you see anyone unusual?”

She shook her head again. “ I haven’t seen anyone. It's my normal route. I go through here everyday. I like running back here because of the trees. I just didn’t expect,” she pointed at the car, unable to form the words. “She’s in the backseat.” She bit her lip, her face still a little green. “It’s awful.” She rubbed her throat.

“Stay here, Satou-san. You’ll have to give a statement to the police.” She nodded shakily.

With a sigh, Shinichi forewent dialing 110 and called Inspector Megure directly instead. “There's been another murder.” He gave him the pertinent details, and then he dialed Teitan High School, letting them know he’d be late since he was consulting with the police. The area of the park where the car had been abandoned was relatively empty, so he didn't have to worry about any other bystanders disturbing the crime scene, small favours.

Shinichi turned his attention to the car, a Ford Crown Victoria. He narrowed his eyes. American make. But it was missing its license plates, and cracks spread out from the left side of windshield like spiderwebs. The impact site was about the size of a gunshot, but the windshield was not bullet-resistant polycarbonate layered glass, easy to tell even from here by the thickness. So it wasn't a bullet, or if it was, it hadn't been traveling at a high enough velocity to break through. Given the circumstances, Shinichi thought it was the former.

Haphazard tracks from the wheels led from the street to the middle of the park, leaving deep furrows in the ground, the damp dirt near black against the green of the grass. Shinichi hung back, observing the scene. He could wait until after forensics had finished documentation.

The grass itself was in need of a trim. Not to the point of looking derelict, but high enough that footsteps bent the grass, leaving clear footprints. Shinichi saw the exact path the jogger had taken as she slowly approached the car, her feet around size 22. She had approached slowly because each footprint was close together. Another trail led away, each mark in the grass farther apart implying she'd left at great speed, perhaps a run, but more likely a sprint, considering the distribution of the weight more towards the balls of the feet, easily identified by the deeper marks. They led to the bushes across the path.

Hers weren’t the only footprints. Another set, around size 34, led away from the driver’s side directly to the sidewalk. The depth of the impressions in the grass implied the driver was heavy, while the length of the stride gave the impression of a very tall man. Not to say that a woman could not also be that tall, but taken with the large size of the feet, Shinichi was reasonably certain the driver had been a man between 185 and 191 centimetres. Someone that tall was a rarity in Japan, much less a woman. His gut said foreigner, but he had no solid evidence yet.

Coupled with the lack of footsteps towards the ends of the car, the plates had been removed before the car was dumped here. He crossed his arms, thinking. He hadn't gotten a clear look at the car yesterday, focused more on the gunman. But the park wasn't too far from the Mouri Detective Agency either, and it wasn't too much of a stretch to think they were one and the same, considering the cars were the same make from what he could remember of the shape, if not the same year.

He couldn't definitively say it without more evidence. Still, it fit too cleanly to be mere coincidence, even though the evidence was only circumstantial. A good detective didn’t believe in them. Why, though? Were they deliberately luring him out, knowing he couldn't stop solving crimes? It was very likely. His stomach curled at the thought. He'd have to watch out for more gunmen. He kept his guard up and moved so his back faced one of the trees, scanning the park. He kept his eye on Satou, but she was sitting on a park bench, wringing her hands. It didn't seem like an act, but one never knew.

Who left home without a phone these days?

The thought it might be them haunted him as he turned it over in his mind until the Inspector arrived. When he did, it was to a clap on the shoulder and a deep, booming, “Kudou-kun! Starting early today?”

Shinichi winced. “I heard a scream on the walk to school,” was all he said. He really wished the Inspector wouldn't make a big deal of it. It's not like he asked to always be first on the scene. It just sort of happened, most of the time, even when people weren't dying in front of him.

“What have you got for me?” Megure asked as the forensics team went to work. He was joined by Police Detectives Chiba, Satou, and Takagi, a number of forensics persons, and several patrolmen.

Shinichi waved his hand towards the car. “Dead woman, young. The cause of death has something to do with the throat. Satou-san was too distraught to give me a clear picture, and I didn't want to disturb the scene to see for myself until forensics was done, considering the footprints.”

“Footprints, Kudou-kun?” Megure asked. “I don't see them.”

Shinichi walked over to the edge of the crime scene, kneeling down and tapping his fingers against the edge of the last size 34 impression. “This is the perpetrator,” he said. “The trail leads from here to the driver's side.” Sure, the impressions might be a little hard to see, but they were there.

Megure stared for a long second, then started bellowing at his people to log the footprints. He made his way over to the hapless jogger to ask for her statement, leaving Satou and Takagi with Shinichi, while Chiba went to cordon off the area and investigate the scene outside the car.

“Observant as usual, Kudou-san,” Detective Satou said.

Once he might have preened at the praise, but these days Shinichi knew better. “Anyone could have seen it, Detective Satou.”

“Not as quickly as you did, and we could have stomped all over the crime scene before anyone else noticed.” Noticing his pensive face, she added, “How you holding up?”

“I’m fine. I’ve been through worse,” Shinichi said, shrugging. “How is Nishida-san?”

“Good. She woke up late last night. Inspector Shiratori is watching out for her right now, making sure no one finishes the job.”

Shinichi frowned. “Good. They don't like loose ends. Did the surveillance cameras catch anything?”

She shook her head. “No. They got the blind spot of the store surveillance, and when we tried to track them through the traffic cams, we found out they were looped. We don't even have plate numbers.”

His frown grew deeper. Shinichi hadn't gotten a good look at the numbers, just the colour and style of plate. “That means they’re familiar with the area. And my routine as well, since that’s the path I always take home from school.” When he walked with Ran, that was. Could it be they already had eyes on her?

The techs were done with with the photographs and the placards marking each footprint, and Shinichi was anxious to actually see the body, so they walked over to the car. Detective Takagi was already examining the outside of the car, perusing the handle and bits of the frame for prints. “It's pretty brutal,” he said, voice filled with apology.

Detective Satou smiled. “You don't need to protect me, Takagi.”

The car wasn’t frost-damp nor did it have any condensation, which meant it had been dropped off relatively recently. They might be able to come up with fingerprints, but Shinichi didn’t count on it. Not if it were an Organisation crime.

Upon closer inspection, the inside of the car indeed held a corpse. Her throat had been slit, as he suspected, the likely cause of death. She was curled up in the foetal position, something he couldn't see cradled in her hand against her chest, long chestnut hair covering her face.

It hadn't been a kind cut. Whoever had done it had sawed at her throat, almost like they were trying to decapitate her.

“Well, cause of death is easy,” Detective Satou said with black humour. “Knife to the throat.”

“Definitely a homicide,” Detective Takagi agreed, before opening the driver's door to search for evidence.

Not a lot of blood on the grey cloth seats, but Shinichi had already surmised the car wasn't where the murder took place. No, this was a dumping ground through and through, and perhaps a warning.

He snapped on a pair of gloves as they took more photographs and documented everything from her black dress to her ripped purple stockings and dirty shoeless feet. When they finished cataloguing, he helped Detective Satou roll her on her back, checking her limbs. They moved fluidly, but her neck was stiff, as were her hands, so it had only been a little over two hours since she had died, long enough for rigor mortis to begin, but not fully freeze the body. “Time of death was approximately 05:33,” Detective Satou said, confirming what he knew.

That meant it had happened as he was explaining his hypothesis about the music to Kaito.

“Blunt force trauma to the back of the head,” Detective Satou said, feeling her scalp. “Not enough to kill her, but she's got a nice blood-soaked bump here.”

“Matches the bruising on her face and arms; she definitely fought back,” Shinichi said.

Satou nodded. “The gouges on her left arm, though. Torture?”

With her hair out of her face, there was something about it. She looked familiar. Too familiar. The shape of her face, the colour of her hair, the shade of her too-red lipstick. He shoved it to the back of his mind, looking at her left arm instead.

She had scratches a lot like the western alphabet, with several deeper, almost vicious gouges through the scratches, like someone went to the trouble to erase them as best as they could. “I’m not sure. Detective Takagi.” The man looked up from his examination of the front seat. “What do you make of this?” Shinichi said, pointing at her arm.

The police detective tilted his head. “They look a lot like romaji.”

*Now that you mention it, they do,” Satou said.

“Can you make them out?” Shinichi pressed, satisfied he wasn't the only one to see it.

“The first letter is clearly an 'S’, but the rest is hard to make out. Judging by the angle, they're self-inflicted, while someone else did the deep ones with a knife or a scalpel,” said Takagi.

“Mmhmm. She did it with her fingernails, probably in the last hours of her life. She knew she was going to die and was fighting back as best as she could. You can tell by the caked blood underneath her nails and the quality of the scratches.” Shinichi turned over her hand to get a closer look. He blinked. “Also, she has no fingerprints.”

“Really?” Takagi turned over her other hand, the one that had been cradled to her chest and pried it open. A slip of paper fell to the floor. “You're right.”

These days with DNA evidence it was mostly pointless, but every so often, one still came across criminals that did it. It could also have been done so the body would be harder to identify, but it wasn't the acid or cigarette method. No, by the scars on the edges of the fingers, it had been a skin graft. Those were expensive. Which meant a rich criminal. A career criminal who wasn't concerned about needing them for anything.

Shinichi stared at her face. Why was she so familiar?

“No identification on her,” Satou said, moving to search the rest of the car. Shinichi wasn't surprised.

He tapped underneath the letters on her arm. S-I or T something S-T-F or E and R or K. Sister? No. There was at least one letter completely eradicated, and judging by the pattern of what he could see, it was a western word.

Silver? Sitter? Sinker? Sistek? He shook his head. The last was spelled with a 'Y.’

Sinister. The letter 'N’ was wide, and if he squinted, he could see the four points of the letter. That or 'H.’ It had to be “Sinister.” She'd carved the word “Sinister” into her own arm with her bare hands, and someone had gone through the trouble of scratching it out, which meant it was important. But why?

And the little torn slip of paper...he grabbed tweezers and put it into an evidence bag. He spread it flat. ‘ _S + D’_ it read. And out beside it, a little drawing of a jewel. __  
  


 

_S + D_   
(gem)  
  


Carelessness by the hand of her murderer? Or a taunt? The fact she wasn't stiff meant someone had posed her in that position. The latter was more likely, especially as they had yet to find anything definitive. No crime scene. No murder weapon. No DNA evidence: Shinichi was willing to bet the blood underneath her nails was solely her own.

Just a car that could have very well been the one the hitman used to shoot at him, and the corpse of a familiar woman. And the drawing of a jewel, the word sinister (more appropriately SINISTER) the letters 'S,’ a plus sign, and 'D.’

Kaito's theory began to make more sense, especially in light of the jewel sketch. But if Kaito was the target, why the deliberately placed murder along the route he walked with Ran? __  
  
That implied knowledge about Shinichi’s own habits. Vermouth? Would she have talked? No. He didn't think so. Vermouth was on her own side, and she'd escaped the takedown that had netted everyone else from Chianti to Gin. She had something of an obsession with him, but this wasn't her _modus operandi._ Mind games, sure. Not giftwrapped corpses. He hoped. __  
  
But the gem. The sketch of the jewel…who were they taunting? Did they think Shinichi was Kid? A homicide detective, moonlighting as a phantom thief? __

_Kaito, do you recognise her? S_ hinichi asked, closing his eyes and focusing on the image of her bloodless, bruised face. __  
  
Disgust, horror, recognition, a strong surge of nausea. _That's Rose. Jewel thief, sharpshooter. The foreign royals. You were there. Snake's lackey._  
  
So that's where he'd known her from! The purple stockings! _Why'd they kill her? Any ideas?_ Silence _. Kaito?_ Still nothing. She was part of the ones after Kaito then. He had no reason to believe the two groups were related, save for being into crime and poor sartorial choices. Internal strife, maybe. Over “S + D?” _Kaito? You okay?_ Shinichi asked, not realising he was gazing past Detective Takagi with an intense, contemplative look, as focused inward as he was. He still felt very queasy. _Kaito?_ Nothing but another wave of nausea. __  
  
A hand on his shoulder. “Kudou-san?”

He jumped and tripped over his own feet, hand falling to his wrist automatically, wild-eyed, but it was only Detective Satou.

He straightened up, dusting himself off, and tried to look nonchalant. “Beg pardon?” he asked her.

She shot him a look. “I said we found nothing underneath or in the boot. The VIN has been removed. You and Takagi have any more luck with the body?”

“Indecipherable letters on her arm,” Takagi said.

Shinichi shook his head. “Not indecipherable. It's 'sinister.’ I thought it might be sister at first, but look at the four points of the letter where the knife wound is deepest. They didn't manage to erase the whole thing, and it's not wide enough gap to be two words. Space enough for a wide letter like H or N and there's only so many permutations of words that start with S-I and end with S-T-E-R. Due to the configuration, it has to be a western word. Sinister is the only one that fits.” __  
  
“It was a sinister crime,” Detective Takagi said. “She died in a lot of pain. The cause of death was the slit throat, but it's hard to say whether it was from blood loss or suffocation. Either way, it was a slow death. They missed the artery on purpose.”

Shinichi nodded. The apotoxin was very painful. Kuroba Touichi’s death had not been pleasant. Whichever one was behind this, suffering was a bonus in their books.

Detective Satou frowned, crossing her arms. “Someone wanted her to suffer.” She said exactly what Shinichi was thinking.

Shinichi kicked up a fist-sized rock, bouncing it from foot to foot, wishing he'd thought to bring a ball, thinking again, until the feeling of eyes made him look up. __  
  
Takagi was watching him again, deep in thought as well. He'd been doing it ever since his second case as Shinichi upon his return. Considering he'd picked up as Shinichi exactly where he left off as Conan, it was a wonder no one in the force had discovered his secret. It had been different when Takagi was new to the force. Takagi had more experience working with with Conan than he ever had with Shinichi before his disappearance, and Shinichi knew the similarities were stacking up. Takagi was a good detective and had more reason to be suspicious than most.

But if Conan hadn't been there, hadn't shown his true self, Takagi would have died alone in that elevator. Shinichi idly wondered what he thought of “Conan's” cousin. Inspector Megure had treated him like a little brat, even as he proved his competence again and again (probably a good thing, come to think of it), while he had complete faith in Shinichi as himself, which was amusing, considering that first case. Takagi and Satou had grown to trust that Conan had good deductive capabilities and had followed his lead plenty of times.

And Takagi was smart. Hence, the suspicion. Shinichi didn't blame him. Coincidences didn't happen, not in their line of work, and the word “relative” only explained so much.

Shinichi cast his eyes over the crime scene. Inspector Megure and his team worked like a well-oiled machine. They’d take the car in for processing. Rose probably wouldn't get an autopsy, considering the clear cause of death. Shinichi thought about recommending one anyway, just in case. Shinichi didn't think he could get any more from the crime scene personally.

Megure was walking with Detective Chiba towards where he was standing with the two police detectives. “Anything? Satou-san didn't have anything significant to add,” Inspector Megure said, pulling at his moustache.

“Nothing on the grounds, the cameras, and no one else saw anything suspicious,” Detective Chiba said.

“Did she see anyone?” Shinichi asked. “On her run, did she see anyone back here?”

Megure shook his head. “No. Why? Do you have something?”

Everyone turned to look at him. “Did you pick up on something we didn't?” Takagi asked.

“Not much,” Shinichi admitted. “A... contact of mine knows of the victim. They don't have her actual name, only that she's a jewel thief code-named Rose,” Shinichi said. “The blank fingerprints gave me the idea to ask,” he added.

Megure frowned. “You're not giving out details of an ongoing investigation, are you?”

Shinichi shook his head. “Cross-jurisdiction, maybe,” he fudged a bit. No way was he implicating Kaito in any way. Then he set his jaw. In for a penny, in for a pound. “This car might be the one from yesterday,” he said. “I don't know for sure.”

“I didn't see you contact anyone,” Takagi said, frowning. Shinichi didn’t say anything. No way was he adding anything that could be taken as a clue to that.

“The one that shot at you?” Megure asked.

“It does look like it,” Satou said. “Coupled with the missing plates and VIN...Do you think she was the shooter?”

Shinichi actually paused to think about it. “There were two in the car. A large brimmed hat and sunglasses obscured their face. They could have killed her for her failure; they’re like that. Maybe. It had Tokyo Municipal plates, but that could be a red herring. ”

Inspector Megure shook his head. “Only you, Kudou-kun.” __  
  
_“_ Then what's sinister?” Takagi said. “The name of the syndicate?”

“Doesn't fit their naming pattern. They use alcoholic beverages,” Shinichi said. He tilted his head. "Anything relating to animals or constellations might also be a possibility."

“Sinister?” Megure asked

“It's carved into her arm. She did it to herself before she died,” Takagi said.

“And this.” Shinichi handed him the evidence bag containing the strip of paper.

The Inspector squinted at it. “You said she was a jewel thief,” Megure said.

“Yes,” Shinichi nodded, then stopped, furrowing his brow. “Wait. Say that again, Inspector.”

“You said she was a jewel thief,” Megure repeated, used to Shinichi's quirks.

Shinichi kicked the rock off the toe of his shoe and bounced it on his knee. “Exactly! And what else would a jewel thief be concerned about but a jewel?”

“So, sinister is a jewel?” Megure said.

“Perhaps. 'S + D.’ I'm guessing ‘S’ is for sinister,” said Shinichi. __

_“_ Then what's 'D?’” Detective Takagi wondered. “Another jewel?”

They all thought about it in silence for a bit before Inspector Megure said, “That’s all very well. It may be the killer’s motive, but do we know anything about them other than they appeared to have had a grudge against this woman?”

Silence.

“There is only one truth,” Shinichi said. “By the size of their feet and the length of their stride, they're between 185 and 191 centimetres tall. Male. Physically fit enough to carry a woman around 60 kilogrammes alone, so probably someone a little athletic.”

_Shinichi?_ Kaito’s voice came through, finally.

_Kaito, there you are!_ Relief swept through Shinichi, making him feel light-headed. _Everything okay?_

_Tell you later!_

“—Narrow it down,” Megure said.

“Hmm?” Shinichi said. Megure gave him a look. “Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“It's enough to narrow it down, I said. Not many people are that tall. Are you all right, Kudou-kun?” Megure asked. “You look pale.”

“I'll be fine,” Shinichi said.

Megure gave him another look, then asked, “Satou, would you mind giving him a ride to Teitan? Make sure he checks in with the nurse?”

“But—” __  
  
“Not at all, Inspector. Come on, Kudou-kun.”

“I’m fine,” Shinichi said, face stubborn.

“Sure you are,” Detective Satou said, face sceptical as she led him to her vehicle. “You’re being targeted. Anyone would need to take a step back. You’re a brilliant kid, but let us do our jobs, all right?”

“Detective—”

“You’re an asset to the force, Kudou-kun.” Her face softened. “Besides, we all like you. No one wants to see you hurt, and what's happened in the last couple of days would be enough to shake anyone. Let us help.”

Well, when she put it that way…”Okay,” he said, slumping. __

_-_  
  
Kaito felt stupidly happy. He sauntered down the street, hands in his pocket, whistling a jaunty tune. He couldn't explain why. In fact, he should be a little concerned since Mouri-san now knew who he was and could turn him in at any time.

He couldn't find it in himself to care. And maybe that should worry him more, but Shinichi trusted her absolutely, and her him. Kaito didn't think he had anything to fear. No, he knew he had nothing to fear. Not from her.

Even though Shinichi felt devastated when he said Mouri-san had found out about Conan, Kaito thought Shinichi was a little too close to the situation to realise that woman wouldn't leave him for anything. She held on tightly to those she loved and detested loss. It could be a bad thing, but for Mouri-san, it wasn't; she’d let Shinichi go with grace, concerned only that Kaito might take advantage of him, worried solely about his happiness, ever protective.

He could hardly feel threatened; it only made him insanely jealous because he didn't have the same surety with Aoko. Two more people that knew what his night job was, and neither of them were the one he'd really wanted to tell. His smile dimmed a bit. It was a toss-up as to which way it would go; he'd never been able to predict her emotions, but Aoko _hated_ the Kaitou Kid, and he didn't think her finding out he was “Bakaito” would make it any better.  
_  
_ With that thought, he turned from the direction of the school and towards his and Aoko's house.

Friends. In a way, he was glad Shinichi and Hakuba had met properly. Shinichi seemed very lonely. He had Mouri-san, yes, but one person hardly a strong support system made. Detective-han had his own life in Osaka, Kaito couldn't begrudge him that. The Junior Detectives were out by virtue of their ages, and the precinct by virtue of him only ever really coming into contact with them during work. There was the Professor, he supposed, but the man was the very picture of the stereotypical absent-minded ivory tower type.

Shinichi's parents, though. Kaito's mother had made him curious. It was a little taboo to worry about another family's circumstances, but he couldn't help but wonder. The house on Beika Street seemed like nothing but a catch-all for their belongings. Kaito knew; he'd been through it. Shinichi was the only one that truly lived there, had a presence. All alone, in that mansion of a house. No small wonder he hadn't wanted Kaito to leave.

He took a quick moment to replace his flowers with fresh ones from the garden, then he walked over and rang Aoko's doorbell.

“Coming!” He heard, and then the sound of footsteps. The door opened, and Aoko looked up at him in shock. “Kaito?” __  
  
“Hey,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

She glared and went the slam the door, but he stuck his foot inside, preventing it. She closed it on him. “Let me apologise?” he said through gritted teeth. “Please?”

She stared at him for a long moment. “Fine,” she huffed.

Kaito bowed deeply, hands at his sides, back straight. As he came back up, he produced a yellow rose tinged with pink petals. Friendship and apology. “I'm sorry. Forgive me?” he said, holding it out to her.

She took it gingerly, clearly expecting a prank, but when nothing happened, she sighed and tucked it into her hair. “Fine. I forgive you. Idiot. And I'm sorry too, for hitting you on the head.” She stared at the ground, a mulish expression on her face. "I thought you'd dodge."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "It's fine, Ahoko," he said, mostly because she'd called him an idiot.

“Don't think that lets you off the hook, though.” Kaito let himself flinch at her idiom. He narrowed his eyes. It was hard to tell if she did it on purpose or not. “Let me get my bag, and I’ll be right out.” __  
  
It didn't take her long before she was ready to go, and then they were walking to school in awkward silence. Kaito wasn't sure how to break it. Therefore, he was surprised when it was Aoko who offered the olive branch. “Tell me about her?” she asked.

How to explain? Kaito laughed, butterflies in his stomach. “Well, the thing is—You see,” he began.

“Kaito! Don't tell me that was a lie, too!” Aoko said, narrowing her eyes and putting her hands on her hips.

Kaito put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Not a lie! But well, the thing is—” he took a deep breath and braced himself for her reaction. “She's a he,” he said finally, ears turning pink.

“What?” she said. __

_“I said that I'm dating a—”_

__“Oh. _Oh,_ ” Aoko said, wide-eyed. “You're—”

“Not necessarily!” he said quickly. “I like both. All.”

“Oh,” she said again, swallowing, eyes still wide. Kaito watched her, wary. “Tell me about him?” she offered.  
_  
_ Kaito relaxed. “He's smart. Genius-level, really. And brave. I've seen him face down stone-cold killers without blinking.”

“Killers?” Aoko said in shock. “Is he a member of the Police? Wouldn't that make him older than you?”

“He's younger, actually, but he does work with the police. He’s a detective,” Kaito said.

Aoko gave him a flat look. “After all the grief you give Hakuba-kun.”

“That's different! Hakuba's annoying! My detective, he's like—it’s hard to explain, I don't know—a force of nature when it comes to cases. He gets this intense look; I've seen him stop criminals in their tracks with just that look. He's very observant. The clues just fall into place for him.”

“So he's good at his job,” Aoko mused.

“Very.”

She cut her eyes at him. “Is he hot?” she asked, her voice mischievous.

“Like the sun,” Kaito said. “Silky raven locks, broad shoulders, muscles, a chest that's perfect for snuggling against, a really nice—” he held out his hands and mimed squeezing.

“Kaito!” Aoko shrieked, scandalised. She swung at him. __  
  
He dodged back, laughing. “What? He plays soccer! You asked!”

“You're still a pervert! How does he put up with you!” she said, kicking at him.

“I don't know!” Kaito shouted back, “but I think he likes it!” He honestly hadn't expected Shinichi, who was shy about those kinds of things, to reciprocate without prompting, but he did. Kaito thought he really did enjoy it.

“That was almost romantic and then you had to ruin it!” Aoko said, throwing a haymaker. Kaito dodged again.

“If you don't want to live vicariously through me, get your own boyfriend!” Kaito said, doing a back handspring to avoid an arm that would have clotheslined him. He ended up in front of Hakuba—who was ostensibly on his way to school as well—darting behind him and grabbing him by the shoulders, using him as a shield, causing Aoko to pull her punch at the last second to avoid hitting him.

“Quit hiding behind Hakuba-kun!”

“I'm perfectly fine where I am, thanks!”

“I take it Aoko-kun is no longer angry with you?” Hakuba said.

Kaito laughed. “For a given measure of angry!”

“You are interacting again,” Hakuba pointed out.

“Kaito's a pervert!”

Hakuba let out a sigh and moved out of the way. “Tell me something I don't know. You told her?” he said to Kaito.

“Some!” Kaito said, dodging another kick, kindly refraining from mentioning the colour of her underthings. (They were purple, today.) __

_“_ Did you meet him, Hakuba-kun?” Aoko asked, pausing in her fury to give him a polite nod.

“I did,” Hakuba said.

“What's he like? All Kaito told me was he was a detective.”

Hakuba paused, clearly not sure how to put it. “Not what I expected,” he said finally.

“How?” Aoko asked.

“He likes Holmes,” Hakuba said. “I didn't think Kuroba had good taste.”

“Hey! I have excellent taste, I'll have you know!”

“And they're very lovey-dovey. Even around other people,” Hakuba said, shooting Kaito a pointed look.

“I prefer the term 'considerate’ or 'gentlemanly,’” Kaito said.

“No gentleman kisses like that,” Hakuba said. “Lovey-dovey is putting it nicely.”

Kaito huffed. “No one asked you to stalk me!”

“You've seen them kiss?” Aoko asked.

Hakuba coloured, and Aoko's eyebrows shot way up. “Not on purpose,” he muttered, “but it was the middle of the street. They're both just as perverted as the other. He's just not as obnoxious as Kuroba is about it.”

“I'll believe it when I see it,” Aoko said.

“He's open to affection! That makes a good boyfriend!” Kaito said.

“A good boyfriend,” she said, shooting him a look, letting him know exactly who she was talking about, “would know there's an appropriate time and a place for everything.”

They'd reached Ekoda High, making their way to Class 3-B, Kaito and Aoko still bickering back and forth about what made a good boyfriend. Hakuba stayed out of it until Kaito said, “Seriously, if you want one of your own, Hakuba is right there.”

Aoko looked him up and down, actually considering it.

Hakuba said, “Please don't drag me into this,” looking ready to bolt. __

_K_ aito was laughing on the inside. He hadn't meant to prank him by directing Aoko at him, but this was great.

“What are you eyeing Hakuba-kun like a piece of meat for?” Aoko’s friend Keiko asked, having just walked into the classroom.

“I'm trying to decide if he's boyfriend material,” Aoko said to her, abruptly turning and walking several steps away towards Keiko's desk.

That was odd. Kaito frowned and felt a foreboding chill. He turned, feeling a crackling in the air.

A deep sultry laugh. Flits and bursts of silver-sick static in his mind. Akako leaned over and used the back of her hand to caress Hakuba's face. “He certainly has the looks,” Akako said. “Did you find the answers to your questions, Detective?” she said, trailing her hand down his neck, tapping long red nails against his Adam's apple. Hakuba swallowed thickly.  
_  
_ Kaito moved in between them, shaking her arm off, hooking his own arm around Hakuba's shoulder, nonchalant and smooth. “I think he did, Akako,” he said coolly. “Call it off.”

Hakuba looked between them, red-faced but eyes calculating, aware of Akako's danger in a way he'd never been before.

Aoko hadn't noticed, in deep conversation with her pigtailed friend about Hakuba's attributes.

She laughed again. “You think I need a spell to attract someone?’

“No, but that doesn't mean you can seduce him! He's not used to women like you yet!”

Hakuba began to speak, but Akako waved a careless hand, and suddenly, he couldn't talk. He rubbed at his face, confused, opening and closing his mouth as if he were speaking, but no sound came out.

Akako raised a perfectly arched brow. And you are?” At his glare, she smiled and said, “Fine, fine,” she stepped away, patting Hakuba on his back as he walked to his seat, dazed. “Now that, Kuroba Kaito, was a spell—to make him go away so we could talk. In fact, I did it to the whole class.”

Kaito crossed his arms, not taking his eyes off her. “I don't have anything to say to you.”

“I must ask about that delightfully dark aura surrounding you and Hakuba Saguru both.” She pulled at something close to his head, twirling her finger like she was twisting something around it. The static sound grew. “You, more so than he. He just came into contact with it. You reek of the source, almost. Lucifer won't tell me anything.”

“What are you doing?” Kaito asked, wary. It definitely had something to do with the gem and his link with Shinichi. He wished he could see what Akako saw. “Stop it.”

“I've never seen two auras so entwined before,” Akako said, tugging the invisible string. “Either by natural or supernatural means. It's like you're two people at once. How did you do it?”  
__  
Kaito, do you recognise her? Shinichi asked, over the link, but it cracked and rippled like it came from an old two-way radio. Kaito cursed his timing. __  
  
Akako staggered back in shock. Served her right.

An image came with it, of a dead woman with chestnut red hair and pale skin. Her face was bruised as if she'd been beaten, but the worst part was the wide gap in her throat, where muscles and her trachea were visible. Gruesome. Nausea hit him. He recognised her, all right. _That's Rose. Jewel thief, sharpshooter. The foreign royals. You were there. Snake's lackey._  
  
Akako’s eyes were wide, looking just as green as he felt. She tugged again, and suddenly Kaito felt really dizzy. __  
  
A feeling of recognition and understanding. _Why'd they kill her? Any ideas?_

__He tried to answer, to tell him it had to be a disagreement or a failure, that no one he knew worked with knives, but he couldn't. _Kaito?_ He couldn't speak. It wouldn't go through. Akako had effectively blocked their link from his side. _Kaito? You okay?_ Shinichi asked, with the lightest touch of concern. __  
  
“Akako, what did you do?” He turned to her, eyes glinting dangerously.

“How?!” She breathed. “It would take an object of great power. This depth of bond is not supposed to be possible. You’re hopelessly enmeshed, almost permanently together. Words, images, _emotions_ …” __  
  
Already he felt a deep sense of loss, Shinichi’s presence that had been next to his heart nearly gone. He could still feel him distantly, but that sick-silver aura of hers rattled through everything, making him feel like losing the contents of his stomach. __

_Kaito?_ A sharper spike of concern.

Shinichi, he thought, but he could feel it didn't go through. __  
  
“Your brain should be mush,” she said. “How are you even alive with that kind of mental strain?”

“Give it back!” he said. “If you don't know how it works, you shouldn't mess with it. It's that simple!” Nosy, meddlesome, bothersome witch!

“I can't!”

“What do you mean, you can't?” Kaito demanded.

“I mean I didn't mean to interfere,” Akako snapped back at him. “Not like that.”

“Yeah, I'm sure,” he said, scoffing. “Unwind it from your finger.”

“It doesn't work like that!”

“It didn't stop you from causing it that way!”

“It's easier to destroy than create. This should not be possible. If I could see what caused it—”

“Nothing but ourselves, I'm afraid. Now give it back!” He grabbed at her hand, trying to pull at the invisible string. It didn't do anything as he tried thinking Shinichi's name again.  
_  
_ “You've melded. More than melded—” They started grappling, not realising Akako was losing hold of her distraction spell. She gasped as they struggled, “You've been inside him!”

The sound of someone clearing their throat. Both of them turned, slowly. The whole class was staring at them in collective confusion. Aoko, who actually knew vaguely what they were talking about, was red-faced and embarrassed at Akako's comment, and Hakuba had an exasperated look on his face. The detective pinched the bridge of his nose. Kaito knew she'd meant mentally, the time he and Shinichi's minds had blended so they didn't know who was whom, but it sounded rather risqué to those that didn't know.

Granted, the method had been outright sexual, but that was beside the point.

“Some distraction spell,” Kaito muttered. “There goes your mature reputation.”

“Hmph,” Akako said with a sniff.

“Maybe now people will see you how you really are. Now give it!” He lunged at her, concentrating on the missing place in his heart where Shinichi was supposed to be. For a brief moment, he _saw_.

A rainbow of colours swirling around his classmates. Akako, her own aura crackling sparks of bright silver tinged with red. Hakuba, warm honey golden rays shining out. Aoko, a soft sky blue twirling around her like ribbons. His own aura: he expected it to be black, but it was pure white, refracting like the fire of a diamond, entwined with a blue thread shining the same colour as the gem had, braided with another one made of a thread so deeply blue it was almost black, attached to his little finger. That could only be one person.

The blue braid caught on Akako's silver-red aura near her forefinger. He reached out; the faceted shadow light of his own aura danced down the thread and burned the snag away.

He marveled at the other threads attached to his hands; honey gold and silver-red and a thicker sky blue, a dove grey, a pale plum, like aged wine, both thicker than the others, the thinnest thread the faintest orchid purple, none as thick and strong as what had to be Shinichi's.  
_  
_ He tried again. _Shinichi?_

_Kaito, there you are!_ Shinichi said, the relief across the bond palpable. _Everything okay?_

_Tell you later!_ Kaito grinned, rolling his 500 yen coin he used for coin tricks from his cuff to his hand and holding it between two fingers so the whole class could see. He used his other hand to flick Akako in the forehead. “Next time, don't try to grab my lucky coin,” he said. It was a weak excuse, but honestly, who'd believe the truth? “It won't help you get a boyfriend.”

Akako glowered, but went with it. She had to. “Not that I need it.” She flipped her hair. “If you wouldn't boast about how rare it was, people wouldn't want to see it.”

Kaito placed a hand over his heart. “Me, boast? Never! Lies and slander!” He winked, and then he snapped to draw attention and pulled out an Orange Mock blossom, tucking it behind her ear.

“Kuroba-san, settle down.” Their teacher had come in, slamming a book on the desk to draw their attention.

In the blink of an eye he was at his desk, hands folded and face forward, the very picture of innocence. “Hmm, I'm sorry. You were saying?”

Kaito very quickly quit paying attention, preferring instead to think about Shinichi. The brief cessation of the link had frightened him almost more than he could bear, and that was just Akako. She, while annoying, was ultimately harmless. Had even saved his life, once or twice. He knew who she was and what she wanted, and thus was easy to work around.

This was a weakness; one who meant more harm could manipulate him that way. Who knew that the red string of fate was an actual thing? Granted it wasn't red, but Akako wasn't wrong when she said they were hopelessly entwined. __  
  
Mmm, entwined. Like limbs. Shinichi’s eyes, half-lidded and dark, as he lay in Kaito arms, watching him with such focus, his gaze so intense it gave him shivers, Kaito’s thumb on the sharp sweep of his cheek. He loved his eyes. He’d start low, nibbling the curve of his hip, licking the line from navel to sternum, moving up to trace the contours of his collar bones, dipping his tongue in the hollow of his throat. He’d spread him wide, taking his time to prepare, entering him slowly, swallow his cries, wanton and needy, going until Shinichi was completely lost.

Kaito himself would get lost in his sharp mind, so entwined with him he wouldn’t know himself, lost in the stars and fire and light, the diamond brilliance of Shinichi’s mind. He wanted to; no, he needed to— __

_Kaito, **please** , _Shinichi begged. __

_Wha?_ Kaito replied, distracted. Yes, Shinichi begging underneath him for release, but he’d still go slow, make it last, keep him in bed all day on the sharp edge of pleasure, treating him like he deserved to be treated, as something precious and special—  
_  
You’re broadcasting,_ Shinichi said, voice heavy with need, arousal strong across the link. _I think Detective Satou thinks I have a fever. She's frogmarching me to the nurse._

_I didn’t mean to,_ Kaito said. Contrary to popular belief, he did realise there was a time and place for everything. __

_What happened? The link feels stronger now._ A pause, and then, _Can we?_

__Kaito didn’t say a word. Just closed his eyes, focusing on his memory of kissing Shinichi, of running his hand up the curve of his back, of a hot touch, and then suddenly it wasn’t a memory. Shinichi wasn’t there, but he could feel him, and then he wasn’t at his desk, but he was kissing him, nesting his fingers in his hair, feeling him breathe with him like he was right there. __

_“Is that a yes?”_ Shinichi thought, dazed, and it was like the words were said right in his ear. He could feel him as if he really were in his arms, the feeling of the chair underneath him and the desk under his arms and the drone of the teacher’s voice a distant nuisance. __

_“That’s a promise.”_

__


	7. The Countdown

“Ran? You look out of it,” Sonoko said, sitting down next to her.

Ran startled, eeping and nearly dropping her bento. She caught it before she could spill it all over the floor. “I'm sorry, Sonoko,” she sighed. “Just have a lot on my mind, that's all.”

She'd found an out-of-the-way nook to eat lunch, wanting to be by herself as she processed what Shinichi had told her. He still hadn't shown up to class, and she was starting to get a little worried. He'd looked devastated when he told her, and she'd been too stunned to think about anything but getting away to make sense of it. That probably was a mistake. Shinichi was smart, but he often came to the wrong conclusion about people and emotions.

“Finally talk some sense into that husband of yours?” Sonoko said, pulling out her own bento.

Ran couldn't help it. She flinched at the reference to Shinichi. “That's not—it’s never going to happen,” she breathed out slowly. “He's found someone else,” she said. It wasn't what she was upset about, not really; no, that was the fact Shinichi was Conan, but she could hardly tell Sonoko _that._

“Why that no-good, dirty, rotten, two-timing—” Sonoko began, working herself up into a rage.

Ran put her hand on her friend’s arm. “It's not like that, really. He can't 'two-time’ me if we've broken up,” she reminded her.

“Still!” Sonoko said, crossing her arms. “I can't believe he dumped you!”

“It was a mutual agreement, Sonoko. Besides, Shinichi was so nervous about telling me, it was cute. He was so afraid I might disapprove. And Sonoko, his boyfriend looks at him like he hung the moon and stars.” All the more bizarre because it was the Kaitou Kid, and she'd never seen him break his unaffected mask for anything. But the way he'd looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world… Ran wanted that. “It's nice of you to be so defensive of me, though.”

“That doesn't mean anythi—wait wait wait,” she put her hands up in a 'T’ gesture and tapped the tips of her fingertips of one hand with the palm of the other. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah, boyfriend,” Ran confirmed. “I was surprised, too.

“Huh,” Sonoko said, tilting her head. “That explains a lot. You’re absolutely gorgeous and super sweet, too. He'd have to be crazy or gay to turn you down. If it isn't that, what is bothering you?”

Ran considered her friend for a moment. Sonoko might believe her; she'd had nearly the same aversion to Conan as she did to Shinichi. Ran giggled a little bit on the inside. No wonder. But she wouldn't betray Shinichi's trust like that.

Sonoko was still looking at her expectantly, so she said, “I just found out why Shinichi disappeared and kept running away.”

“And let me guess, it was nothing but a big bunch of sorry excuses,” Sonoko said, opening her bento.

Ran blinked. “No, he had a good reason. I understand, it's just—” She bit her lip. It was just the enormity of it. The sheer impossibility of it.

“That sounds like what people say after going back to someone that's not good for them, like abuse or cheating or whatever.”

“He could have died. He's still in danger. Sonoko, he got shot at yesterday. Someone almost died. It could have been him.” Much to her chagrin, she found herself tearing up again. “He was protecting me,” she said.

“Okay, so what's the problem? You clearly can't hate him for acting like a jerk, and you believe he had a good reason, so what's the deal?”

“He lied. It was to protect me, but it was still a lie, and—” They'd slept together. He'd also seen her in her night clothes. Naked, in the onsen; no wonder he hadn't wanted to get in! She just thought he was being a little boy who didn't like baths! She flushed.

He'd lied about the mobile phones, about his parents—and there was a frightening thought, there was an actual conspiracy of people who were in on this, which made her wonder who all knew. If it were so dangerous, why had so many people known? Who'd made the calls while he was sitting right in front of her? And then another thought hit her—who'd played Conan when he was Shinichi? Because she _knew_ that had been him that time, at the play, at the dinner.

He'd heard every confession about Shinichi she'd ever made to Conan. From the very beginning to the one on the airplane, and—she blushed harder; he _had_ heard that confession! No wonder Conan had always been so adamant that Shinichi loved her. He was confessing, though she hadn't known it at the time.

But he'd stayed by her side. He’d comforted her on those nights she'd felt alone and lost. Constantly looking out for her as much as his perceived age had let him. There definitely had been other places he could have gone, but he chose her father's agency. And it was funny, but she wasn't even angry about Shinichi being the reason for her father's rise to fame—and he had to be, her dad was good but lazy—he'd heard Ran complain about their lack of money and her father's habits. He didn't do it out of any kind of desire to be cruel, though how he'd changed his voice and put her father to sleep she didn't know.

It explained everything. He'd wanted to stay by her side, even if he couldn't be there for her as himself. Once the hurt that felt like betrayal settled down, and she actually thought about his reasons, she couldn't help but be a little touched. He’d called her as Shinichi, whenever she confessed to Conan she was a little lonely. He let her hold him when the distance between her parents got to be too much, held her as much as he could in his younger, tiny body.

It even explained his distance once he'd taken the antidote—and what kind of poison turned you into a child anyway? He’d called her Ran-nee-chan, treated her like a mother figure mostly because she _had_ been. She'd used her spit to clean his face a time or two! She’d definitely mothered him with cold medicine and early bedtimes, read him stories even though he insisted he didn't need them, nagged at him to stay close and out of the grown-ups’ way. That had to be messing with his head. Definitely mixed signals there. Hard to be a love interest when yours saw you as a mother or older sister.

Hence his need for her approval about Kuroba-san. Suddenly, she was glad she'd given it.

And then that on top of finding out he was attracted to men? Or at least one man in particular? That wasn't as much of a stretch, honestly. Thinking back, Conan had always loved Kid’s heists, every heist note making him so excited he'd practically vibrate in his eagerness to decode them. Ran knew she was intelligent, but she wasn't on Shinichi's level. He'd never looked down on her for that, but Kuroba-san—and that was still weird, knowing who he was—matched him there, too. Even outwitted him on plenty of occasions. Shinichi loved the thrill of a case, and Kid always kept him on his toes.

And Kuroba-san had never really treated Conan like a child either. She winced. Shinichi had always hated being patronised and talked down to because of his age. He used to be more arrogant and boastful, but now it was a quiet sort of confidence in his ability, more open to suggestions from others. He even demurred on occasion when people talked about his deductions. She'd always loved him, arrogance and all, but he was easier to be around these days. It must have been a bitter pill for him to swallow, the way people treated children, but he'd grown and adapted all the better for it. He'd grown quiet, pensive, thoughtful.

The way she'd still treated him, even when she suspected he was Shinichi, his childlike act aside. She should have confronted him much sooner, no matter how crazy she'd felt. Maybe it _had been_ her. Kuroba-san had hardly been around him and he'd known. Hattori-kun must have, too, with his constant slip-ups. She knew them for what they were, now.

No wonder she'd lost him. She still could, as a friend, with the way she acted earlier. He'd thought she'd react badly, and she hadn't exactly inspired confidence. Still, he was an idiot if he thought she'd hate him over this. Maybe she was still a little angry, but…

She understood.

In ten years, with their vastly different interests, they would have probably wound up like her parents, anyway. The thought made her sad.

“Ran?” Sonoko said. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Thank you,” Ran smiled up at her.

“For what? Complaining about Shinichi? I can do that at any time.”

“For being my friend.”

“No problem!” she said, going back to her bento. ‘Still, a boyfriend? That's a bit surprising, and it's not the boy part! He's hopeless at romance!”

Ran facepalmed. “Sonoko!”

“Hey, I've had to watch you two dance around each other since middle school, I think I'm entitled to say that.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but Kuroba-san said Shinichi hit on him first at a Kid heist.” At least that's what she gathered from the situation.

Sonoko stared. “Kuroba-san? Really? This could totally be the craziest coincidence, but like Kuroba Kaito?”

It was Ran's turn to stare. “Yes, really. How did you know?”

“He's like, competition with me for being Kid-sama’s biggest fan! That is so wild!”

It was all Ran could do to stop from gaping. “Where'd you meet him?”

Sonoko’s eyes sparkled. “Duh! At a Kid heist a few months back! We were arguing over who'd been to more. He says he's been to every single one since his reappearance, but I don't believe him. There's no way! Some have been out of the country. I do see him at almost every heist, though.”

Ran did gape that time. Kuroba-san was definitely the winner. How had nobody figured it out, again? Especially if he was that open with it? Based on what Ran knew of him, he probably thought it was a clever joke.

“He's super nice and super into magic. Wants to be a famous magician like his dad. That's so cool! What's he doing with a boring stick-in-the-mud like Shinichi?”

Ran couldn't help it; she laughed. Shinichi's life was certainly never boring. Shinichi himself was fascinating.

“What?” Sonoko said, pouting.

“He’s far from boring. Besides, have you _seen_ Shinichi? He's very attractive, I’ll have you know. You just see him as a childhood annoyance, but believe me, he's been working out,” Ran said, thinking back to that shirtless kiss. She never pictured herself as any sort of rotten girl, but that kiss had been something else, and she could sort of see the appeal now.

Both of them half-naked. Muscles flexing in Shinichi's back as he looped his arms around his neck, hands large and wide and of just a slightly darker tone trailing down. The passionate way they drank from one another. The husky moan Shinichi made as he pushed Kuroba-san against the counter, Kuroba-san’s entirely enthusiastic response. She shivered in remembrance.

“If you say so,” she huffed. “But Kuroba-kun seems like he'd be more one into personality rather than looks, you know?” Sonoko popped the top of her juice.

Feeling a little mischievous, Ran said, “I have it on very good authority Shinichi is excellent in bed,” right as Sonoko took a drink. She spit out her juice. It went _everywhere._ Ran tilted her head. “Think that's the draw?”

“Ran!” Sonoko said.

“What? You're the one that's always talking about 'it!’ Just because it's Shinichi—”

“You didn't!” She said, “Because if you did I need details!”

Ran's eyes widened in realisation and turned bright red. Sonoko thought she and Shinichi had— “No, not me! I heard it from Kuroba-san! They did it!”

“How does that even work between guys, anyway? I mean where are you supposed to put the—”

“Sonoko!” Ran said, colour deepening. “I don't know! Ask Shinichi or Kuroba-san!”

“I might do that. They’ve got to have tips that work even for a woman, right?” Sonoko wondered.

“I wouldn't know,” Ran said. “I guess. I thought you knew about this kind of thing, Sonoko. You're so boy crazy,” Ran said, shaking her head.

“Just because I think about it doesn't mean I know about it,” Sonoko said. “First-hand experience is something completely different! I want to surprise Makoto-san.”

Sonoko was right in a way, though she didn't know it. She could think about the Conan/Shinichi thing all day, or she could let him explain it first-hand. Ran packed up the rest of her bento.

“Where are you going?” Sonoko asked.

“To give Shinichi a piece of my mind,” she said.

Sonoko grinned. “Good on you, girl. I'm rooting for you!”

Ran smiled back. “Thanks!” she said with more enthusiasm than she felt.

She walked to administration, asking if he'd checked in, and they directed her to the nurse's office. Shinichi was lying on the cot, cold compress on his head. When he saw her, he sat up, his eyes wide. “You're an idiot,” she said.

He looked at her as if he'd been struck. “Ran, I—”

“Let me finish, Shinichi,” she said coolly, cutting him off. “You're an idiot for not remembering what I told you.” Her eyes softened. “I told you nothing you ever did could make me hate you.” She grabbed his hand, linking their fingers together. “You stayed by my side. You looked out for me as best you could. How could I hate that?”

“ _Ran,_ ” he choked out, voice absolutely broken.

“Don't get me wrong; I'm still angry you didn't tell me, that you lied to me, but I understand. I'm happy you told me now, even if I had to call you out on it. I'm sure Hattori-kun and Kuroba-san had to as well, you're so stubborn.” She ran her fingers through his fringe.

“Just tell me next time? I promise I'll listen before I go all crazy karate girl on you. Just let me know before you go, all right? And take care,” She kissed him on the forehead. “After all, big sisters need their little brothers,” she half-joked. Because Conan or Shinichi, he was still hers. Her closest family. Not her selfish dad or her distant mum. Not Sonoko who she loved dearly but who could be very flighty on occasion.

Shinichi wrapped his arms around her, and she realised he was crying. Shinichi didn't make any noise. But his shoulders were shaking, and she felt his tears wet her blouse. She just held him until he calmed down. “Ran, I don't deserve you,” he whispered.

She kissed the top of his hair. She didn't respond in her usual joking manner because god, it looked like he believed it. “Yes, you do, Shinichi. I'm far from perfect.” She pulled away, wiping his tears away with her thumb. “Now what are you doing in the nurse's office? Did something happen at the case?”

He took a deep rattling breath, visibly calming himself down. “Detective Satou thought I had a fever.” He frowned. “I actually did have a fever, unfortunately. The nurse said it was from stress and overwork and told me to rest until after lunch.” He shook his head. “I need to talk to them about taking my finals this week since I'll be gone. Being here is wasting time. I'm fine. It's just a little fever.”

“Still pushing yourself harder than you need to,” Ran said, shaking her head. She reached into her bag and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “I got your homework for you.”

“Ah, thanks. You didn't have to.” He took them and put them in his own bag. Awkward silence.

Ran broke it. “Hey, Shinichi?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you know you liked Kuroba-san?” She had to ask because really, Sonoko was right. He _was_ hopeless at romance, though he tried hard. He blundered through it, and then tried to fix it with grand gestures, and it was adorable.

“You know, I don't really know. It was like he was just there one day, present in my thoughts no matter what I was doing. I couldn't get him out of my mind.”

“Really?” Ran said. “That easy?”

“I wouldn't say it was easy. I didn't mean to fall in love with him; it was just something that happened along the way. He's one of the last people I would have chosen because of certain reasons, you know?”

She nodded. He was a criminal. “And the fact he was male?”

“Didn't really enter into it. I thought I would be disgusted until it happened. I wasn't. Maybe it's just me, but male or female or in between, people are just that, people. He's just Kaito, just like you were Ran. It's hard to explain. I mean I looked at other women, but it was always you."

“So what about other men?” She asked.

“That’s a little different, less socially acceptable. I guess I could see myself with a few other men in an abstract sense. Hakuba, maybe. I'm pretty sure he's completely straight, though. At least he wouldn't deck me for looking. I was lucky Kaito felt the same way and was willing to try it out. What brings this up?

“I was curious as to what you see in him. Sonoko asked me why I was upset and I kind of told her you had a boyfriend and she said she might ask for tips. Also, she knows Kuroba-san. Apparently, they're competition to be Kid-sama’s biggest fan.”

“He would do that, wouldn't he,” Shinichi shook his head. “That was a good distraction, considering you couldn't tell her the real reason, though now the whole world's going to know,” he said, resigned.

“Was it worth it?” Ran asked. “Is he worth it?”

“It can be hard and confusing sometimes, but I will tell you. It’s completely worth it. Kaito is—he cares, Ran. He's everything I never knew I wanted.”

And that part actually did hurt. _I cared._ Ran wanted that, _so much_ , wished it was her he was talking about, but she took a deep breath, and she smiled because she had asked about it, knowing it would hurt. If it was a little tremulous, Shinichi didn't comment on it. Still, she reflected, it probably was the idea of it more than Shinichi himself. _Ten years_ , she reminded herself.

Shinichi had a serious look on his face. “Ran...thank you for not hating me. You should. I know I lied to you constantly. The longer it took, the harder it became. That's no excuse, but,” he trailed off, not sure what to say.

“You and your guilt complex. You don't have to carry the world on your shoulders all the time. Just—Don’t lie to me anymore, okay? About the big stuff. No matter how hard the truth is. Do that and we'll call it even.”

“I swear,” Shinichi said. “Nothing but the truth from now on.”

“Besides, I thought I was crazy, Shinichi. Sometimes, I still think I am. How? It should be impossible! Life doesn't work like that!”

“Life is stranger than fiction. Fiction is predictable. Life isn't. It's one of those trite sayings, but it doesn't make it any less true. I probably wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't experienced it.”

“A poison, though. Was that much true?” Ran asked.

“Yes. And technically, I didn't lie. I was much weaker like that.”

“And the antidote was,” she gestured to him, then spread her hands, mimicking growth.

“Yes. I couldn't let you see me. That's why I always ran away. The temps; they didn't always have a set and stable time. I never knew when they'd quit working.”

“And you're going up against them again?”

“Yeah. I don't have a choice. Sooner or later, they won't miss. I was lucky, last time.”

“Shinichi, it's going to be okay. You're going to take care of it. I know you will.”

And then, “The case this morning? They murdered someone. I _know_ it was them. It was directed at me, Ran. I can't have you be in the crossfire. They knew the route we walk together, Ran. I don't have a choice,” he repeated. He scowled, frustrated.

She bit her lip. “Shinichi, just promise me you'll be careful. You have to promise me I'll see you again.”

“I don't make that promise unless you do. Little brothers need their big sisters, too.”

“I promise.” Ran couldn't help it, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Still friends?” she asked.

“Friends, always.” Shinichi said, returning the embrace. “Do me a favour, Ran? Watch over everyone, when I go?”

She pulled back and nodded, her face determined. “I will. Come back safe.”

He nodded, face grim. “I promise.”

-

They called Kaito in during his last class of the day to talk about his exams.

“Your final exams are scheduled for Thursday and Friday. Are you sure that's enough time for you to prepare?” Konno-sensei said, looking at him over her glasses, her brunette hair loose.

“I’ll be fine,” Kaito said, his hands behind his head.

“Considering your stellar grades and the conversation I had with your guardian, we're allowing your early graduation. Are you sure you don't want to graduate with your classmates?”

“Eh, I don't have a choice. It's a family emergency,” Kaito said, putting his hands down.

“Yes, I heard as much from your mother.” She folded her hands across her large desk. “Everyone has a choice. It's not too late for you, Kuroba-san,” she said, eyes intent.

Maybe it was just that the encounter with Akako was still on his mind, but it sounded like a threat and made Kaito uneasy. It was like the room darkened, like there were shadows haunting the corners. Poker face, he reminded himself. “Then I’ve made mine, Konno-sensei,” Kaito said, baring his teeth in a grin, sounding much more confident than he felt, holding her eyes, rude and defiant.

The atmosphere lightened. “Very well. Yukari-sensei told me you had an unusual outburst in class yesterday.”

“I have outbursts in class all the time,” he said, frowning. “As I'm sure you'll remember. My tricks can be loud on occasion. Hazards of being a magician.”

The final bell rang. They both ignored it.

She smiled. “Oh yes, you were my trial by fire as a teacher. Probably the reason I turned to administration,” she admitted, voice rueful. Her face turned serious. “But she says this one was different. That you skipped class. It's very unlike you.”

“I was having a bad day. Stress. Worry. Family emergency, you know. I'm much better today.”

Konno-sensei looked like she very much wanted to ask, but it would be abominably rude, even more so than him holding her gaze. “Kuroba-san—”

“Can I go now?” he said, just this side of irritated.

Konno-sensei let out a sigh. “You can go. Take care, Kuroba-san.”

What a waste of time. Still, he'd be out of there by the weekend, and then he go after them, whoever they were. They were after Shinichi. He couldn't let that stand.

The bell had rung, but today was his and Mine-chan’s turn to clean the classroom. When he entered, however, she was nowhere to be found. He'd heard her earlier talking about karaoke with her friends, but he didn't realise it meant she'd ditch him and leave him with all the work.

He let out a sigh. Typical. But there was no use complaining about it. The sooner he finished, the sooner he'd make it home, and the sooner he'd make it home, the sooner he'd get to see Shinichi.

Excitement churned in his stomach. He'd get to show him the secret room, and his toys, and he just had to introduce him to Jii. Shinichi had become an integral part of his life, and if it weren't for the way he could feel him humming along the link, he would probably miss him dearly. Even now, he took the occasional moment to assure himself it was there. Probably a defense mechanism of the jewel. He still didn't understand the purpose of the link. Why had it linked them together? What was it after? Was it sentient? Sapient?

He retrieved the broom from the corner and swept as quickly as he could. He didn't feel especially protective of the jewel. He didn't have a compulsion to carry it around everywhere—it was sitting in a lock-box in the secret room. Shinichi though, he did feel protective of. Was it his own emotions? A compulsion? Something to bring up to Shinichi later.

As he was going back for the something to collect the dirt, he tripped over something in the middle of the floor.

Eh, Aoko's mop. It had fallen over. It needed to be put up, then he could get to cleaning the blackboards. He trudged back to where the cleaning supplies were kept and opened the classroom closet.

Inside, there was a digital LED clock with red numbers, counting down. Kaito blinked. It was attached to a massive set of interlocked wires and parts, about the size of a game console. It took him a moment to realise what he was seeing.

A bomb. 13 seconds, the display read.

12 seconds. He blinked again. It was still there.

11 seconds.

10 seconds.

9 seconds. He lost time staring, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

8 seconds. He swore. No time to disarm it. No time to get away. By the size of the casing, the resulting explosion would be huge.

7 seconds. Kaito ran across the room towards the windows. Escaping through the hall would put him too close to the epicentre of the blast, likely the bomber’s intention.

6 seconds. All the windows were closed. it would take too long to unlock and open one. Only one option. He took a desk, lifted it, swung it at the glass, and shattered the window.

5 seconds. He reached inside his gakuran for his string of linked scarves, pulling the full length out, silk and strong enough to bear his weight. A good thief, like a good magician, was always prepared.

4 seconds. He tied the scarves around another desk, double-knotting them to the leg.

3 seconds. In too much of a hurry, he fumbled the knots, losing precious time.

2 seconds. He backed up.

1 second. Kaito ran helter-skelter towards the broken window and dove. The jagged glass tore at his shoulder.

0 seconds. The world shook as he was only halfway down the building when the bomb went off. The heat burnt through his makeshift rope, sending him crashing two floors to the ground, his head bouncing off the wall as he plummeted.

Kaito landed on his shoulder, breath knocked out of him, ears ringing, head pounding. His eyes blurred; he couldn't see straight. Damn it! Kaito knew the signs of a concussion very well. He couldn't remain here; what if they had a back up plan in case the first didn't work?

He staggered to his feet, unable to walk a straight line. It was a miracle nothing was broken. Smoke trailed from the third floor. People stared; there was shouting. Kaito could barely focus, everything blurred together. He  only had one thought in his head. _Get away. C'mon, you can do it, one foot in front of the other, Kid._ He was bleeding profusely from his shoulder, the fall pressing the glass deeper.

A panicked and concerned _Kaito!?_

 _I’m alive,_ he thought back grimly. _Bomb in the classroom. Meet me at home._

_Right. Stay safe._

He ran through the day in his mind as he limped as fast as he could down the street, picking up speed. He hadn't recognised anything or anyone out of the ordinary.

A plant close to him, then? They didn't care about collateral damage either; Mine would have died if she hadn't skived off. Unless she was a part of it. Shinichi's group or his? Were they one and the same? _Both_ of them were targets. Whoever it was wanted to make sure they were both good and dead. If it wasn't for Aoko's daily mop antics, he would be.

They knew when it was his turn to clean the classroom. They fucking _knew._ They had to. To plant the bomb, to have it go off when it did.

No, he wasn't going to be gone by the weekend; he was going now, he was taking Shinichi with him, and damn the consequences. What was school to his life? To _Shinichi's_ life? No.

No. No. No. No. No.

If worst came to worst, as a magician, he wouldn't need school. Not to be an entertainer. He had money anyway from his investments. Technically, missing the exams wouldn't take that much off his grade. This was far more important. And well, he was excellent at forgery. He did more than mimic faces and voices.

He staggered to the side of the building, trying to stop his head from spinning, then he pushed on, his eyes opened for pursuers since he couldn't hear a thing. Could barely see but he couldn't afford to be tailed. It would clear in time. He just had to push through it.

-

At Teitan High, Shinichi knocked on the door of a certain teacher's office, his notes about the Black Organisation in his hands. Coded, of course.

“Jodie-sensei?” he asked. She'd resumed her teaching position not soon after Shinichi came back. He had his suspicions about that.

“Ah, Kudou-san! Come on in!”

“May I talk with you a moment about the extra credit?”

Jodie Starling frowned, her brow furrowing. “Kudou-san, your English is nearly perfect, pronunciation and all. You've got the highest grade in the class.”

“I mean about the extra credit I was assigned.”

“I don't follow,” Jodie said.

“A 'cool kid' told me about it. Said you're the person to talk to.” He pulled out his phone and waved it at her. “Figured you might want to put a face to a name.”

“You were the source,” she realised.

“Occasionally,” Shinichi admitted. “I know a lot about American English. I’ve spent time in both Hawaii and California. I'm going to be travelling again soon, and I just want to make sure my grades are okay.”

“Just to confirm, this is the essay about underage drinking?”

Shinichi nodded. “I've heard fortified wine is a big problem in America. Liquor, not so much; that tends to be more of a problem here. Since they've cracked down on other spirits, Rum seems to be the drink of choice.” Mostly because Rum was the only one they didn't have a face and name for. Most of the rest of the high ranking members were in custody or dead, save for the Boss and Vermouth.

“Hmm. I'd heard something like that.”

“It's written in the essay, of course. One more thing?” He reached over and pinched her cheek, pulling at her hair as well, making sure it wasn't Vermouth in a mask and a wig.

“Ow!” Jodie held her hand to her cheek.

“Sorry for the forwardness, but one can never be too careful,” Shinichi said, bowing slightly. “It’s a serious problem, especially with unregistered distilleries.”

She pulled on his face right back. “I agree.”

“Oh, and before you grade too harshly, remember three to the right.” A relatively simple cypher. Each letter was shifted three to the right. A became C, B was D, and so on. It wouldn't fool a spy or an agent, but it was decent enough for the casual observer.

“I will.” She was staring at him with the strangest look on her face. “Hey. Before you go, I've heard 'Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder.’”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. A potential code name for the Boss? He turned to leave when a rush of fear, sharp like whiskey and acrid like smoke burned through him. He barely had time to process it before sharp knives tore at his shoulders and back. Shinichi staggered against the doorway as a flash of heat erupted around him. A sharp blow against his ear and the side of his head, and then a rough impact against his shoulder. Shinichi collapsed to the floor, curling in on himself.

And the pain. Oh god, there was so much pain. Kaito's being attacked, he thought numbly. And he’s hurt. Badly.

 _Get away. C'mon, you can do it, one foot in front of the other, Kid._ Kaito's mental voice sounded shaky.

 _Kaito!?_ Shinichi said, attempting to keep calm for Kaito's sake, but the panic leaked through anyway.

 _I’m alive,_ Shinichi heard, Kaito's tone pure ice. _Bomb in the classroom. Meet me at home._

 _Right. Stay safe._ No response. Just a wave of grim determination and assurance. Shinichi sent what he could, strength and energy, his own desire that Kaito be safe.

“—udou-san! Kudou-san!” Jodie-sensei had knelt down beside him and was shaking his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He sat up, moved to his feet shakily. “I'm fine.”

“Kudou-san, you just collapsed! You are not!”

“I'm fine,” he repeated, leaning against the wall to help him walk. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on himself and the reminder that he was whole and healthy in comparison to Kaito. Then he drew away Kaito's pain, taking it into himself as much as he could, feeling a burning along his left shoulder. When he opened them, his walk was steady and he could move again. “Don't worry. Just lingering effects of the fever I had this morning. Believe me, I'm fine.”

“Kudou-san, just get it checked out, all right?”

He could imagine how that would go. ‘Oh, my lover was almost blown up about ten kilometres away and I can feel that. Doc, can you help me? Wait, what is that white jacket with the ties for?’ “Of course!”

Lie. Huh. Funny how easy that had become.

He left the school, bag over his shoulder and head held high, only to bump into Ran, Sonoko, and Sera who were heading home.

“Shinichi, you look like you've been run over,” Sonoko said.

Shinichi ignored her, save for inclining his head at her and Sera. Sera nodded back. He had no time. “Ran, this is it. I'm leaving.”

“So soon? But I thought—”

He pulled her into his arms, giving her a tight embrace, murmuring in her ear. “Kaito's been attacked. We can't wait. I told you I'd let you know. Keep them safe, Ran-nee-chan.”

“I will, Shinichi. You can count on me!” Ran said. “Thank you for telling me.”

Shinichi pulled away, their hands linked together, smiling at her, soft and sad, almost like a final farewell. It was up to her now. Then he turned and ran towards the train station, figuring it would be safer than a taxi, if slower. One-on-one in an enclosed space with a stranger? No way.

“Ran!” He heard Sonoko screech behind him. “What was that all about? I thought,” she trailed off.

Ran's placid response, “Nothing, Sonoko. Just a promise between two childhood friends.”

And Sera's eyes following him, a pensive expression on her face.

It was the longest train ride of his life. He'd almost missed the train, and even though there was only the Haido stop between Beika and Ekoda, he still couldn't stop his foot from tapping, his eyes from scanning each and every passenger, treating every single one like an enemy.

Shinichi circled around unfamiliar territory several times, doubling back and once cutting through a shopping centre just in case. He meandered through to a more residential area, nervously checking for tails for the millionth time.

He walked up to an unassuming home. _Kaito, I'm here._

 _Oh, good._ It sounded almost delirious, the slightest bit relieved. _Let yourself in._

Sure enough, it was unlocked. He walked in, locking the door behind him. It was a modest house, tastefully decorated, and there was clear evidence two people lived there, even if one wasn't there for the moment. Shinichi locked the door behind him.

Kaito was slouched over on the sofa, leaning over one of the arms. He looked like hell; there was a bruise darkening the entire right half of his face, blood matted in his hair and covering his left side, a busted lip.

Shinichi took off his coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves. “And you told _me_ to take care, stupid idiot,” Shinichi murmured, reaching out to run his fingers over the unmarked side of his face.

-

Kaito stuck his finger in his ear, wiggling it around. “I'm sorry, can't hear you, explosion,” Kaito said. “Everything's tinny.”

 _“_ You’re lucky you don't have a ruptured eardrum or two,” Shinichi said, louder this time, perusing his wounds with a careful eye. _Hypocrite. You told_ **_me_ ** _to take care, but look at you._

“Yeah, look at me,” Kaito said, voice sombre, picking at his clothes, ruined by blood and ash. He looked down at himself, looked at Shinichi, gave up, and just fell against his chest, closing his eyes.

‘Don't go to sleep now,” Shinichi said.

“D’n’t worry,” Kaito slurred. “Not stupid. Concussion.”

“You still have glass in your shoulder,” Shinichi said. “It probably needs stitches.”

“Don't care,” Kaito said. Truth be told, he barely felt the pain anymore. That was probably a bad thing. Today had just been too much. He had a hard time feeling anything. He just knew he wanted Shinichi, that he was safe. That Shinichi felt safe.

“What did you do? It's the wrong angle for shrapnel.”

“Jumped out the window.” He burrowed his face against Shinichi's chest. “Quickest way to escape the blast radius.”

“We'll need to get it out. It's pretty deep. The hospital is an option, you know.”

“Nope. They'll be looking.”

“Then at least let me take care of it?”

“Mmm, Nurse Shinichi.” Kaito traced the curve of Shinichi's neck.

“Kaito, I've got to get it out. It looks pretty serious,” Shinichi said, fighting a blush.

“So?”

“So, I’ll do whatever you want if you let me,” Shinichi said. “Anything.”

Kaito pushed him down so their chests were touching. “I just want you in my arms.” He kissed the sweet spot underneath Shinichi's ear. “Want you writhing underneath me.”

He felt rather than heard Shinichi's breath catch. “With or without the nurse's uniform?”

“Didn't realise that was an option.” He kissed along Shinichi's jawline. Blood dripped down Kaito's arm, soaking into his sleeve. He was starting to feel really lightheaded.

Shinichi noticed and pushed him away. “Now’s really not the time. As fun as this is, Kaito, I just had scrapes. You've got half a window in your shoulder.”

Kaito pouted and tried to snuggle back into his chest. Shinichi wouldn't let him. “Shinichiiii,” he whined. “That's hyperbole!”

“Sit, Kaito. Shirt off. Before you bleed to death.”

“So fresh! So demanding! I like it.”

“Let's see, a list of things a busted shoulder will not allow you to do: use a grappling hook, use a hang glider, lift more than 25 kilogrammes, climb a rope, climb a building, descend from the ceiling, do a handspring,” Shinichi trailed off. “I've got more.”

Kaito groaned. “You made your point. Why do detectives have to be all logical?” He grumbled.

“Now strip.”

Kaito attempted a leer, but judging by Shinichi's expression, it didn't come out too well. He fiddled with the clasps for a bit before Shinichi took pity on him and helped him. It tugged against the glass, and Kaito let out a strangled noise.

“It's not coming off this way.”

“First-aid kit’s in the kitchen,” Kaito said. “It's got trauma shears.”

Shinichi retrieved it, noting it was paramedic grade, reaching for a pair of gloves and the shears first. “Hope you don't mind the loss of your uniform.” He cut the fabric away from his left shoulder, peeling both layers off him, leaving his top bare. The bruise continued down his back, mottled his bleeding shoulder. He must have hit the building several times.

There were a myriad of deep cuts with glass embedded, mostly clotted, but the culprit was a piece of glass about half the size of his palm. Every time Kaito moved, it would work the skin open, causing it to bleed.

“Not going back,” Kaito said. “Consider the explosion my graduation.”

If Shinichi removed it, it would bleed even more. He'd leave that one for last. He retrieved a pair of hemostats from the kit; since they were normally used to clamp arteries, they had a much stronger grip and were better than tweezers for precision work that needed that strength.

Shinichi pulled the shards out as gently as he could, disinfecting the wounds they left behind, slathering them with antiseptic ointment, pulling the small wounds together with butterfly bandages. It still took a long time. “The large one is going to need sutures,” he said.

“Do you know how?” Kaito asked.

“Yeah. I learned it when I took a course in Hawaii. I'm usually first on the scene, whether or not I want to be. Figured I might save a few lives. It’s been awhile since I've had to use any of it, though.”

Kaito paused for a minute, considering. “Do it,” he said.

The kit contained a pack of stiff thread, sealed and sterilised, as well as a needle.

Shinichi worked the large piece of glass out of his shoulders, rinsing out the wound with distilled water and an iodine solution. He worked slowly, carefully, making sure the stitches were even. Kaito said nothing; only his hands clenched tightly to his trousers and the sharp throbbing at Shinichi’s own shoulder gave any indication it hurt. Shinichi again took as much pain as he could away. He tied it off, wiped the excess blood from the wound. It was still red and angry, but it was no longer bleeding freely. Just in case, he wrapped it in bandages and pinned them into place.

“All done,” Shinichi said, removing the gloves, running his fingers along the top of Kaito's shoulder.

Kaito grabbed his hand with his right, lightly kissing his fingers. “Thank you.”

“You have a plan?” Shinichi asked as Kaito draped himself over him.

“Wing it?” Kaito tried.

Shinichi huffed. “Something we can use?”

“Don't die?” Kaito tried again, nuzzling into Shinichi's neck.

“Because that seems to be working well so far,” Shinichi said, reaching up to trace the shell of Kaito's ear.

“Neither one of us is dead yet. I'd say it's working.” Damn, but it was hard to think.

“You've done some spectacular stunts. I know you can plan better than that. I've a few ideas, but I'd like to hear your take.”

“They knew you. They knew me. They're here, at least enough for a lead. So we search. Canvass the city. Highlight potential operating bases, then surveil. A little later, I'll show you a few safe houses, they shouldn't have those, some more of my investments just in case, my most trusted contact, but right now, I need to get my bearings.”

“The plates were Tokyo Municipal. They abandoned the car and the corpse on mine and Ran's route to school, taunting me. They shot at me along the same route. The bomb was in your classroom,” Shinichi said.

“It had to be placed by someone that knew the cleaning schedule. Someone that knew me, knew where I'd be.”

“That knew our routines. They know who we are.”

“Yeah. Which means they know where we live.” They both took a moment to digest that. Kaito continued. “I’ll lock down everything, we can leave from the back. But first,” he moved up and kissed him, just a press of lips. “You.”

“Kaito, you're hurt,” Shinichi said.

“Well enough for this,” he said, then kissed along his brow. “You promised. I was good.”

Shinichi hmmed. “I guess I did. You’ll be all right?”

“It doesn't hurt as much as it should. I think I'm really out of it.”

Shinichi looked away. “Would you prefer the pain?”

He had an unusual note in his voice. “Shinichi? What do you mean?”

“I'm taking it away.”

“What?” Kaito sat up. “No, Shinichi, don't.” Was it his imagination, or did Shinichi's face look like it had the pale shade of a bruise? Kaito divested him of his shirt, mostly with his right arm, popping off buttons, standing and moving behind him, nearly falling over from the vertigo.

Angry red scratches criss-crossed Shinichi's left side, concentrating on his shoulder. Not deep enough to bleed, but definitely enough to hurt. A perfect parallel of his own injuries. Kaito traced them, feeling the heat from the inflamed skin. _True sympathetic properties. How is this possible?_ “Shinichi. You take too much on yourself.”

“You're the one that's hurt.”

“That doesn't mean I want to see you hurt instead!” Kaito had thought the gemstone was ultimately harmless, but this was dangerous. If one of them were to die, would the other follow because of the link?

What if Shinichi took more than he could handle? How had he even figured out how to do it? Was this the result of tampering with the threads?

Kaito concentrated, trying to gather it to himself, but it didn’t work. “Please return it.”

“No. You're barely standing as it is. I’ll live.”

“Pain is important. It's how the body understands its limits. I wasn't taking it seriously because I didn't realise how badly I was hurt.”

“I don't think it works like that. It's mine now. I don't think I could give it back, even if I wanted to.”

“You insufferable, stubborn ass—” Kaito began, but Shinichi cut him off with a kiss while he was still talking.

 _Hey now, no name-calling._ Shinichi wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him close, careful to avoid his bruises. “You said you wanted me,” Shinichi said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “So here I am. Take me.”

“This isn't over,” Kaito said. “Don't think I don't know a distraction when I see one. I am all about distraction.” He traced the lines of his lips with his tongue, asking for permission.

Shinichi allowed him in. _Don't I know it._ He rolled his hips, moving his hands down lower and groping him, and Kaito made a noise and pushed him back against the wall, knocking some curios off a table as he bumped into it with his hip.

 _Oops_.

 _Heh._ _Nothing broke._ Kaito pulled at his belt for a moment before Shinichi flipped them around, knocking down a picture frame as he brushed it with his shoulder. _Not yet! Bedroom_ _?_

_Yeah._

They moved through the house, unable to keep their hands off each other, kissing, touching, heading vaguely to the bedroom and bumping into what seemed like everything in their haste, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Kaito pulled away, nipping at his neck. They knocked over a plant, Kaito stumbling into Shinichi's arms.

_Careful!_

_It’ll keep. Bed, **now**.  
_

They made it to Kaito's room. Kaito pushed him down to the bed, pinning him down as he straddled him. “Look at you,” Kaito said, voice filled with awe. Kaito ran his fingers up his side. Shinichi shivered. “You are the most precious jewel of my collection. On display just for me.”

Shinichi raised a brow. “You take all your gems to bed? Kinky.” He ran his fingers down his undamaged arm, curling them around Kaito's wrist that was resting on his chest.

Kaito laughed. “No! But I stole you and your heart,” Kaito kissed him on the nose. Shinichi twitched. “And I'm not giving you back.”

“You can't steal what's freely given,” Shinichi reminded him, settling a hand around his hip.

“Still not giving you back~” Kaito said, hands on either side of his shoulders, pressing a kiss to each of his eyelids. “I’m going to take you and run off into the sunset.”

“Leave our lives and the problems behind?”

“Sounds lovely,” Kaito kissed him on the lips: chaste, just a gentle touch. “If untenable.”

“Yeah,” Shinichi said, as Kaito kissed his forehead. Shinichi retaliated by lifting Kaito's palm and pressing it against his lips. “Like either of us could.”

“It's a wonderful fantasy. To forget, even for a moment.” Kaito kissed him on the throat. Then he moved, peeling the rest of their clothes off with Shinichi's help, leaving them bare.

Shinichi was already fully aroused. Kaito settled himself back on top of him, trapping him between his thighs, tracing the contours of Shinichi's chest, tweaking a nipple.

“Just this. Just us.” Shinichi said. “ A few moments without worry.” Shinichi's other hand settled around his waist.

“You, me, right now,” Kaito agreed. “Later, let come what may.”

“What about coming now?” Shinichi said, closing the slight distance by bucking against him.

The unexpected contact pulsed through them both. “Detective! I've corrupted you!” Kaito said, grinning. He leaned down again and kissed him, slowly, sweetly, as if in reward.

“You're incorrigible,” Shinichi said, rocking against him again. “Thief.”

It felt so good. But not yet. “What was that?” Kaito pretended not to hear, tilting his head for effect. “I'm encourage-able?  Yes.” He nudged Shinichi's thighs apart and settled between them, tonguing the curve where his ribs met the soft part of his stomach, kissing him everywhere with a searching, hungry mouth, making good on his mental promise, the ghostly sensation like a balm to his own bruised body. He was going to have them both so awash in pleasure they'd forget the pain.

Shinichi couldn't breathe. “The things you do to me,” he whispered.

“The things I'm going to do to you,” Kaito corrected, trailing fingertips down Shinichi's face, lingering on his lips. “Today, I am taking you. Today, you're mine, body _and_ soul.” He grabbed his cock, gave him a few rough strokes.

The unexpected sensation caused Shinichi to let out a cry. “Kaito!”

“Yes?” He replied innocently as if his hand still weren't wrapped loosely around him, providing the barest hint of pressure.

Shinichi bucked against his hand, making a needy little noise. “ _Please_.”

“No, not yet,” he said, moving his hand, tracing nonsense patterns around his hips and upper thighs; not touching him, but hovering very, very close—so close Shinichi could feel the warmth of his hand.

Shinichi reached out, but Kaito pinned both his hands with one of his own just above his erection in a mockery of their first experience. “ _Please,_ Kaito,” Shinichi begged.

“I'll think about it if you can remain absolutely still,” Kaito said.

“Now who's the tease?” Shinichi grumbled, but kept his hands to himself, attempting to keep himself motionless as Kaito explored. Kaito rewarded his diligence by running his fingers down his sensitive neck, feather touches there and on his cock, down to his balls and perineum, back across his thighs. It was the worst kind of torture; not only for Shinichi but for himself as well because he could feel it, too. _Mmm_. Just like he liked it. Orgasm was always sweeter after denial.

Shinichi mostly succeeded in staying still, but he quivered at his touch, taut as a bowstring, every nerve in his body fighting against the lack of movement. “You wanted this,” Kaito reminded him as he caressed him. “There's nothing more than I would like to have your hands roaming over me, your sweet kisses down my spine, or even lower, that clever little mouth of yours doing clever little things to me—”

The sharp swell of desire Shinichi sent over the link made him near drunk with want. Kaito revelled in the feeling. “But look at this. Look at how disciplined you are, how focused. I can feel how much you want to move, see the lines of tension in you as you struggle to remain still,” Kaito said. “But still you remain. Fascinating. And if I did this?” He touched him, finally using a decent amount of pressure, and stroked, precome slicking his grip.

Shinichi held out for the first few strokes, but then he couldn't help but rock into his hand at his touch; the feeling built and built, the beginning of sweet release teasing at the edge of his mind. Kaito's hand moved to the base of his cock and tightened, cutting him off, nearly driving Shinichi to tears with frustration. “No, not yet,” said Kaito. _So nice._ With the link, he knew just when to stop. Beautiful torture.

“Kaito, love, _fuck me,"_ Shinichi moaned, legs askew, hands fisting the sheets so he wouldn't be tempted to touch him, his pupils so blown his eyes were nearly black. Shinichi was struggling to keep himself under control, to keep himself still, but he looked delectable this way: all wanton and needy, face flushed, eyes wide, body shaking. _Please, Kaito. **Please** , love  _Hearing him so undone did such things to him.

“Begging so sweetly,” Kaito let out an appreciative hum. “How could I say no? You're going to be the death of me,” he said, reaching over for his bottle of lube.

“Don't say that,” Shinichi said, panting. “I don't want to even imagine that after the last couple of days.”

“I meant the 'little death,’ but I see your point.” Kaito kissed him again as if to soothe his worry, delving into his mouth, massaging his tongue with his own in a slow, perfect kiss. He moved down, pressing his ear against his chest, listening to Shinichi's racing heart for just a moment. _Mine_ , he thought.

 _Yours,_ was Shinichi's reply.

Then Kaito poured a fair amount of lube into his hands, rubbing his hands together so they were nice and warm and wet, and slicked Shinichi up, shivering at his own touch. He paused for a moment to get hold of himself, Shinichi's nervous excitement giving him butterflies. He prodded at Shinichi's entrance, working him with one finger, then two.

 _That feels—_ Shinichi said. “Oh,” he whispered.

“Bad?” Kaito asked.

_No, just different._

_I imagine. The physical contact is far more potent, no?_ Then he pressed his fingers just so, causing Shinichi to let out a cry and tighten his legs around him. Kaito nearly lost it himself. The angle was so much easier to work when it was someone else. He did it again and again, scissoring his fingers, adding a third when Shinichi was nice and primed and relaxed. Kaito continued working him, murmuring gentle words of encouragement. He guided himself so he was pressing against him. Then in one swift movement, he entered him with a sharp thrust.

“ _Ah_ ,” Shinichi gasped. He grabbed hold of Kaito's wrist, the other hand twisting in the sheets. Kaito felt how Shinichi craved his touch coupled with the desperate desire to move. He took his time at first, keeping to a slow rhythm to help him adjust. Then he twisted his hips right at the perfect angle, causing Shinichi to call his name, hoarse and needy. “Kaito!”

“Look at you,” Kaito breathed. Head back against the pillows, neck bared, body glistening with sweat, face flushed, eyes still so intense, locked with his own as they moved together. “Why don't you touch yourself?” Kaito said as he moved. Because really, that would be the perfect end to such a pretty picture.

 _Oh thank god,_ Shinichi said, near sobbing in relief, hand moving to stroke himself as Kaito picked up speed, lifting Shinichi's hips and angling just right as they moved in an unpractised and erratic rhythm, building and building and building.

No stopping it this time; both of them were too close, sweet release just out of reach—

“Come for me, Shinichi,” Kaito murmured, and his words pushed Shinichi over the edge, and Shinichi pulled Kaito with him.

They were falling through infinite space, burning, drowning. Golden light surrounding them, a swell of stars and song. Images flickering by so fast Kaito was unsure of what he was seeing, pressure in the air, the feeling Shinichi _was_ him and he Shinichi, once again so entwined they didn't know which way was up.

Waves of pleasure awash with freedom, the complete lack of any pain, and then the threads were back, only there was no blue thread linking them together—just shining white and blue-black tied together in an impossibly elegant knot, fancy and unable to be separated, save by force.

And two words and an image, haunting the back of Shinichi's mind, almost as if he'd forgotten about them: Sinister + Dexter, and a little drawing of a jewel.


	8. The Conundrum

Bliss. Pure ecstasy. Kaito's thoughts, sensations, emotions, memories running through Shinichi's own, cresting high. Kaito's very being merging with his—a tidal wave falling back to the ocean, becoming one once more.

A golden path, a quick step towards a white cape fluttering in the distance, and then—

Shinichi fell through a dark space, a burst of white scattered light like diamond scintillation twirling around him like fireflies, caressing him, embracing him. As he fell, doors, dark wood and bronze, opened as he passed, giving him glimpses of old cases, but they passed by so quickly he couldn't focus on a single one.

And then there were red curtains hanging from a stage settled behind a series of proscenium arches, a grand stage right out of Victorian England surrounded by the soft glow of gas lamps, a spotlight shining on the empty platform. Images played before his eyes like a film, translucent. Shinichi stopped, suspended in midair like a marionette, strings wrapped all around him, the stage in front of him, plush red velvet seats of the theatre balcony behind him and more still below, and a wide void filled with stars above.

A multitude of colours, the strings were. Most of them faint. Some thick. He noted the thicker ones, though; murky, hot yellow, a deep crimson, bright green like spring, orange, a dull shimmering amber, pale pink, lavender, deep green like a forest, grey like smoke, and the two thickest; an steady orchid purple and that same sparkling, playful white.

And then he was falling again, only this time he heard something fluttering at his back, and the sound of a clock tower ringing, the round face of the clock a light in the starry night, mimicking the full moon behind it, nothing but fog below. He glanced down and saw gloved hands and a sliver of wrist against blue, reached up and touched the brim of a hat, felt the press of metal against his nose.

Shinichi came back to himself with the faintest thought he’d forgotten something scratching at the back of his mind. He stretched, pleasantly sore, and wrapped his arms around Kaito, tucking him under his chin, being careful of his wounds.

He was still worried about Kaito, but he felt boneless and lazy, feelings of _safe_ and _home_ and _mine_ thrumming through him. That...hadn't been what he'd expected. _Protect_. The word pulsed in his mind. That he'd already decided to do on his own. He didn't need some lump of carbon telling him what to do.

But was it really the jewel inspiring the feelings? Kaito always kept his cards close to his chest. For him to openly admit _love_ of all things, even with being unable to lie to him—Shinichi knew Kaito, he could have found a way to work around it—it was like he'd entered some parallel world. But Shinichi felt the same, and lying together like this was as close to perfection as humanly possible. How had it come to this? That it felt as natural as breathing, like it had always been this way?

A week ago he wouldn't have even imagined being friends with Kid. Now he would do anything to never let him go. He loved his mind and his resilience and his determination. He was brilliant and unique and clever and so very, very kind, masked by cheek and confidence and frenetic energy. The baseball for the Kid fan. What really happened to the last Cat's Eye. The bizarre disappearance of the prime minister. Helping Nakamori keep his job (though honestly he could admit that had benefitted them both). All memories he'd seen in Kaito's mind. All forms of kindness.

Shinichi bit the inside of his mouth. Codependency? No, he'd been able to function well without him even with the link, and while he had no desire to most of the time, he was capable of saying no, of defining boundaries. His concept of self was still as solid as ever and wasn't dependent on Kaito, even when they’d merged. He still remained his individuality, only he was somehow more at the same time, and the more they experienced the meld, the more Shinichi was able to remain himself, even as they blended.

How much was the diamond manipulating them and how much was himself, though? That was harder to define. He didn't think it was to blame for all of it. No, it was a catalyst, nothing more and nothing less. He could admit he'd been drawn to Kaito long before this, that the thief had lit a fire inside him, provided the best kind of rivalry, challenged him at every turn. Like a moth dancing with a flame, though he couldn’t decide who was the moth and who was the flame. But could he even trust his mind? The one thing he constantly relied on? That defined him?

A detective and a thief were natural enemies.

The corner of his mouth tugged up. Yeah, that hadn't really been true since the Iron Tanuki. Kaito could play it however he wanted, but Shinichi knew better. While it had been about the challenge first and foremost, it had also been about helping old man Suzuki out. “Gentleman” thief, indeed. Maybe even earlier, speaking of Samizu Kichiemon...

And knowing now why he stole, well. Revenge wasn't exactly the noblest of reasons, but Inspector Nakamori himself said the one thing Kid could never steal was a human life. Shinichi agreed. Every time he'd found him under suspicion of murder, he'd actually been working against the loss of human life.

And speaking of life, the timing of the attacks bothered him. Why now, only after they’d met outside a heist? Was it Shinichi's appearance on TV on Saturday? No, they'd interviewed him after the mass arrests. Surely, they'd have made an earlier move. They'd known he was alive since the takedown. Plenty of time to do something about him. So why now?

And then there was the fact Kaito had been hurt in a far more personal setting than Shinichi, and far more severely. Why? A swell of anger built; it was not to be borne. He'd promised to keep him safe, and he'd already failed.

A thought hit him. He tightened his arms around Kaito’s waist. It hadn't been about his assistance aboard the Bell Tree Express, had it? Had he misjudged Vermouth? She'd shown she wouldn't go after him and Ran, and grudgingly, Haibara, but she'd also shown that collateral damage and killing by proxies were A-OK. If it _was_ the Black Organisation after him, if they'd figured out Kid's involvement, if they _did_ have a hand in it, then—

“Somebody is thinking hard,” Kaito said. “So tense,” he murmured against the shell of his ear. Shinichi shivered. Kaito licked the line where his jaw met his neck.

“ _Ah_ , yeah,” Shinichi said, a little breathless, his nerves still hypersensitive. Smuggling. Arms deals. Blackmail. Technology. Theft, usually money. Biochemistry...those were the aims of the group he'd called the Black Organisation, fronted by several legitimate businesses. Not jewels. They'd shown a preference for bombs on at least three separate occasions. Kaito's bombing reeked of them. But if it was them, why then, was a jewel thief, a woman with ties to Snake, killed and staged for _him_ to see? He didn't know anything about Kaito's group, but—

“Sinister and dexter?” Kaito said as he reached his throat, pressing a soft kiss to the centre, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“What?” Shinichi asked, taken aback. Why did that sound so familiar?

“Something I saw in your mind, that’s all. What's the context? Something to do with the murder case, yes?” Kaito asked, resting his head on his shoulder. He reached down and ran his hand over his forearm. “Relax, Shinichi.” he massaged his arm. “Always so tense.”

Shinichi blinked. “Yeah. I haven't told you the details, have I? I found a slip of paper on her with the lettering S + D, with a jewel doodle beside ‘D.’ Sinister is also Latin for left. It doesn't necessarily mean evil. And if that's the 'S’ on the paper, then 'D’ might be dexter, for right. I hadn't put the pieces together.”

“Your subconscious did, then?”

“Something like that, though it might be more accurate to say unconscious. The average person is subjected to hundreds of thousands of stimuli on an everyday basis. Most of it is filtered out. People like us see more, but that doesn't mean that it's perfect. Usually intuition is the excuse for these leaps of logic, but generally speaking, it's the mind putting together subtle clues.”

“Mmhmm,” Kaito said. “Dexter and sinister can also refer to the right and left sides of a coat of arms from the bearer’s perspective, if I remember. I stole one once. It was a funny-looking one with golden lions _passant guardant_ , gem-encrusted. Took the blades, too. Now _that_ was a heist.” He shifted so he could look at Shinichi's face. Shinichi frowned. Kaito grinned, the gesture pulling at his busted lip. “I gave it back!” _to the right people._

“It’s not that.” Though Shinichi knew the symbol of the Plantagenet house.  “For her to carve ‘sinister’ in her own left arm? What would make that in particular so important? Is the fact it was on her left arm, the sinister one, significant? Did she even do it herself, or is it possible it was staged? And if so, why was it knifed out? And the S + D was written on a ripped piece of paper and placed in her hand in a way that _had_ to be planted. Someone wants to guide us, maybe. Which means the perpetrator wants me to figure it out. Why?” Shinichi growled in frustration, heat rushing to his face as he realised the sound had warmed Kaito to his toes. Kaito pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “A ruse?”

Kaito nuzzled his shoulder. “Maybe. They've been one step ahead of us so far.”

“I deduced that they had to be tall. Foreigner is a reasonable conclusion. Heraldry usually means Europe, but that doesn't narrow it down at all—”

“—Especially since arms can be personalised to each individual, as in western Europe. Rose was a jewel thief; perhaps the coat of arms carries a gemstone on the dexter side? Or perhaps it's canting arms; a rose or a gem could stand for a house…”

“There's just not enough evidence,” Shinichi said. “I don't know nearly enough about the case to come to a solid conclusion.” And that was the most frustrating thing about it all. Not enough evidence. Shinichi didn't like being led. “Everything at this point is just speculation.”

“Research,” Kaito agreed. “What I don't know, Jii-chan does~”

“'Jii-chan?’” Shinichi asked. _Gramps?_

“Yeah, he's usually pretty good about catching what I don't.” He jerked up, realisation rolling through the link. “That's right! You haven't met Jii!” He thought about it for a second. “Well, properly, certain tricks aside.”

“Your assistant?” Shinichi said.

Kaito nodded. “Mmm! Every magician needs a good one!” Shinichi hovered over him as he stood, feeling the stiffness and pain of Kaito's wounds, vindicated as Kaito wobbled. He recovered well, though.

Kaito kept repeating _poker face_ in his mind, not letting any of it show on his face, for all the good it did.  Shinichi could easily tell what he was feeling,  “Kaito?”

Kaito gritted his teeth, moving away from Shinichi, and stood under his own steam. “I’m fine.” Shinichi shot him a look that told him exactly how much he believed him. For the sake of his dignity, Kaito ignored him.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, caressing the side of his face, tracing the sweep of his cheek, kissing him.

Shinichi couldn't believe he was saying that, not after the fuss he made when Shinichi was covered in blood not his own and _fine_. He pulled away. “Hypocrite. You’re not—” Kaito kissed him again.

Shinichi knew that if they kept it up, they'd end up in the same place they just left. He found he didn't mind all that much, until he ran his hand through Kaito's hair and came away with blood. It needed to be cleaned so he could see how bad the damage was. Oh, he hadn't been thinking. He’d forgotten about his head injury. Couldn't blame that one on the diamond.

“Bath. Now,” Shinichi ordered, grabbing Kaito by the arm and leading him to said room. He knew where it was intuitively just as he knew his own house, as if he’d lived there as long as Kaito, which was an odd feeling. “Get in.”

“Mmm,” Kaito hummed, eyes half-lidded. “So bossy.”

“What's gotten into you?” Shinichi wondered as he started running some hot water. Kaito was such a conflicting swirl of emotions even Shinichi had a hard time picking them all out, but lust wasn't one of them. Just some sort of warmth, a hint of a searching feeling, like he was looking for reassurance. “You do coin tricks, right? Show me one?” he said, tossing him a coin he'd found by side of the bath.

Kaito shot him a flat look, then made it disappear and reappear, flipping it across his knuckles no problem. Shinichi let out a sigh of relief.

 _“Hurts,"_ Kaito said as Shinichi prodded at the side of his head. It was a bad bump, but the most serious thing was the concussion. He couldn't see bone, so that was good. His speech was coherent, if a little odd, not unusual for a hard bump to the frontal lobe; he shied away from light, but his motor control was still excellent.

“I know,” Shinichi soothed. _I’m sorry._ He took the handheld shower head, and making sure it wasn't too hot, rinsed his hair, the water turning a pale shade of pink, neatly avoiding his bandages. He did it again and again until the water from ran clean.

Shinichi took great care washing Kaito's blood-soaked hair. Setting his jaw, he concentrated yet again on Kaito's pain. If he was careful, he could take just enough of it to leave a dull ache for them both with Kaito none the wiser. Both of them would feel around the same amount of pain either way, unless Kaito actively focused on ignoring it.

He traced his head wound, the bruises on his back gently, taking as much as he could stand into himself. As he did, he felt the dull pounding in his head grow, stopping just at the point of sharp pain. The torn muscles in the shoulder were a little harder to balance; he didn't want to leave them both out of commission, but he could deal with some pain so long as Kaito could perform his usual acrobatics. He only needed his legs, anyway. The injury didn't go away per se, but it divided itself between them. Pragmatic, that.

The difference was palpable; Kaito brightened, sat up straighter, while a wave of dizziness hit Shinichi. He bore it with ease, though. It was nothing on the apotoxin, or the cures.

Then he stopped the bath up so Kaito could soak in the heat for a while.   

Kaito was limber enough now to dress on his own while Shinichi bathed, and hopefully would attribute the warmth of the bath to his current ease.

He took Shinichi's hand and led him to up to a small door that was close to his own.  “Before we go, there's someone I want you to see, Shinichi~” Kaito said, pulling him into the room. It was large enough to stand in and sloped—a finished attic. Nearly filling the room was a large aviary; a small chute let the doves come and go freely from outside.

“What?” Shinichi had a good idea about what it might be, though.

Kaito let out a fake gasp. “Don't tell me you've forgotten already!” A click of his tongue and suddenly he was covered in doves. Shinichi stood a few paces away, bewildered as the one on Kaito's hand began cooing at him.

“Look, Hana remembers you,” Kaito said, holding her out to him. Shinichi took her.

The dove bumped her head against Shinichi's hand, letting out another soft coo. “This is the one I saved?”

“Mmhmm!” Kaito held out his hand, and she flapped back over to perch on him. “She likes you.”

“So she does,”  Shinichi said, his voice soft, reaching over, stroking her head. A pause, and then, “You don't seem to use them much anymore,” he observed. “To spy.”

“Not really,” Kaito agreed. “To tell you the truth, I don't want to see them hurt. And the little lady got shot,” he said. “Besides,” and he stood up straight and poked his chest out, “A great magician never repeats the same trick twice!”

“Except the teleportation trick. And the midair walk. And the trick with the spotlights. And the sleeping gas. And the constant blackouts,” Shinichi said, cutting his eyes at him. “You even quoted Thurston to me and did it anyway.”

Kaito deflated. "You didn't figure it out until the end." He huffed. “You critics. Always so critical.”

“Hey, hey. With your cheesy speeches, you should be more eloquent, don't you think?” Shinichi said.

“I'll show you eloquent!” Kaito said, and he leaned over, doves flying off in a swirl of feathers, and stole a kiss from a startled Shinichi, who stiffened in surprise before kissing back.

Shinichi pulled away with a challenging smirk. “Oh yeah? That's not exactly proving your case, you know.”

"Cheesy? Geez, there really is no pleasing you people." Kaito laughed, waving him off. He set out their feed, taking time to say goodbye individually to all his doves. They were well-trained, and seemed to understand the quiet instructions.

"They'll find us later if we need them." He peered down at his watch. “We need to go. We’ve lingered too long. I said we’d leave out the back. C’mon, we’ll need disguises.”

“Disguises?” Shinichi asked. “I’m not sure if—”

“I don’t want to take any chances,” Kaito said. “Grab what you need to take with you.” Shinichi already had his phones and wallet, voice-changer, belt, watch, and braces. He didn't need much else and said so.

Kaito ignored the mess in the floor as they made it back to his room. He winked and moved to the same portrait Shinichi had seen in his dream, the one of Kaito's father. Kaito touched the frame and it swung open, allowing them both in. Kaito looked behind him with a grin. “You coming?” he asked, holding out his palm.

Shinichi took it with his free hand. Kaito pulled him down a short dark corridor, flipping and locking the portrait behind him, sliding a false wall into place, moving down stairs and into a room cluttered with different gadgets, shelves packed to the brim with cards and fuses and other miscellaneous items. A jukebox, an old tape deck, a checkerboard floor. “I knew it,” Shinichi said, turning, taking it all in. Just like in his dream and his mind both. “The portrait is the key to Kid.”

“My father’s workshop,” Kaito said aloud, gesturing to the cluttered room. “Ta-da!” he said with a sweep of his good arm.

White hats stood on a rack in the corner, bits and pieces of machinery stood disassembled on a table, clothes racks packed with with a wide assortment of clothing and was that a—

Shinichi frowned. “A car?”

Kaito beamed. “A magician has his tools, you know.”

Shinichi rubbed his head. “That’s right. You drive, too. When you disguised yourself as Kogoro-occ—” he stopped, embarrassed at his slip. It was still happening even after all this time.

Kaito pulled out a card between his first two fingers, flipping it to show the jack of diamonds. "Anyone can be a thief." A bit of prestidigitation and it became a jack of hearts. “Anyone can be a magician. It takes a special sort of dedication to be both.” He flicked his fingers. The jack of diamonds reappeared alongside the jack of hearts. "I'm a jack-of-all-trades by necessity.” The jack of clubs and the jack of spades joined his hand. He flicked his wrist and the cards landed in a white hat left upside down on a table.

Relief washed over Shinichi. Fine motor skills were not only a thief's lifeblood, but a magician's.

”Company drops a new OS that so-and-so place is using for the security in their vault? Have to know that backwards and forwards so I can exploit vulnerabilities. Electrical engineering for the hardware, rewiring alarms and the like. Chemistry for my smoke bombs and flash grenades and paralysis powder. Perhaps the easiest way to get close to my next target is to pretend to be the owner. Only they sing, or play an instrument. So I must, too, enough to get by.”

“A consummate actor,” Shinichi murmured.

“Naturally!“ Kaito bowed with a flourish. “Driving is comparatively easier.” He shrugged. “On my list of crimes, underage driving isn't even enough to make the cut.”

“And not driving without a licence?”  Shinichi asked, tone amused.

“You kidding? Most of the time, the people I'm impersonating _do_ have licences.”

“Right. I don't know why I asked,” Shinichi said, shaking his head with a smile. “How'd you even learn anyway?”

“Jii’s got a lot of friends. One has a driving course.”

“You're absurdly skilled.”

“Ha!” Kaito crowed. “You should have seen me when I first started! I've had to learn, and learn quickly.” He sobered, rubbing at his chest, and Shinichi received a perfect picture of a bullet heading towards his heart coupled with the phantom ache of a gem digging into his skin.

Shinichi changed the subject. That certainly wasn't something good to dwell on. “Escape route?”

He pointed to a wide door just large enough for a single car. “Mmm. There's a short underground passage leading to a garage the street over. I own the house. I've never needed to use the car, but it's the simple magician's principle of misdirection: if you're performing the trick with your right hand, focus attention on your left.” He rubbed the nearby jukebox with a fond smile.

Kaito pulled Shinichi over to the racks and started tossing clothing around. “No,” he said, discarding a red plaid shirt. “No,” he said again, throwing out a green coat. “No!” He kept repeating the word, tossing an ever larger pile of clothes behind him until he pulled out a pair of black leather trousers and held them up to Shinichi, squinting his eyes. “Yeah, I think this is it.” He threw them at Shinichi. “Put them on.”

“Leather?”

“Trust me,” Kaito said, tossing an artfully ripped ace of spades shirt at him, and then a leather jacket on top of that, covered in buckles and studs. Then a black lacy bra.

“I don't know about this—” Shinichi began, fingering the lace.

“I dress casually, and you're pretty formal, so both are out for obvious reasons,” Kaito said. “Ever considered a career in the music industry?

 _Oh no._ “I can't sing.” Best to nip this in the bud.

“Shinichi, everyone can sing.”

“You've never heard me. I'm tone-deaf.”

“I said everyone can sing. I never said anything about singing well, now did I?” He frowned at the pile of clothing. “I did hear Visual Kei was going out of style these days,” he said, tapping his chin. “Nevertheless, it'll do. Any proficiency with instruments?”

“I do play the violin. I'm more familiar with theory on piano, though. Not sure what you're going for.”

“Didn't Holmes play the violin?” Kaito asked.

“He also boxed, fenced and used opiates,” Shinichi said. “I played soccer for the reflexes, but I don't have to emulate everything. I'm well aware he's fictional.”

“I'm grateful for your athleticism, I assure you,” Kaito said with another wink, running his hand over his backside, making Shinichi jump, “though I have been on the wrong side of that ball one too many times.”

“You deserved it,” Shinichi muttered. “And this?” he said, holding the bra out pinched between two fingers.

“Oh, no. That's for me,” Kaito said, snatching it back. “Though I wouldn't say no to seeing you in it, sometime.”

Shinichi pointedly didn't think about it. “Your shoulder. You don't have a sports bra or a front snap?” Shinichi asked. “Though Ran did say you could twist it around…”

“Shinichi! I'm surprised Mouri-san talked with you about such things!” Kaito winked at him. “Looks like you got further than I thought.”

“It's not like that!” Shinichi said, hands up, colouring again. His shoulder twinged.

“Hmm. Pity.” With one of his swivel mirrors and a few judicious applications of adhesive and false skin, he'd rounded his face and lengthened his nose and added false eyelashes. Make-up followed, every stroke smooth and quick and steady, as if he'd done it a million times. Probably had.

“What are you wearing?” Shinichi asked, sounding kind of strangled as he caught sight of him

Kaito laughed, pitching his voice higher, perfectly feminine. “Something I thought you might like, precious~” He'd thrown on a black see-through number, the last few buttons undone on the top giving him an illusion of cleavage, and a cropped leather jacket that stopped just below his ribs, giving him the illusion of shape. The last few buttons were similarly undone, showing his navel. A leather miniskirt showed off his long, long legs, ending in a pair of black heels. With a few more quick applications of adhesive, he had a lip, navel, and nose ring. A long, black lace front wig came next. “Didn't I tell you it was much cuter this way?”

Shinichi swallowed. “Something like that,” he allowed, eyes still on his legs.

Shinichi was still staring, so Kaito huffed irritably and dressed him himself. “Now we match,” he observed, still in a woman's voice. He stuffed their essentials—including the lock-box with the jewel—in a black Vivienne Westwood handbag and looked him over with a critical eye. “Still needs a little something.”

“Um,” Shinichi began, shrinking back in fear. That look was eerily similar to his mother's when she got one of her crazy ideas. As his mind made the link between the two, a feeling of foreboding crept up his spine.

“If anyone asks, you're the keyboardist and I'm the frontman and lead guitarist.” Kaito applied eyeliner and a frosted blond wig to Shinichi, who caught a glimpse of himself in one of the swiveled mirrors. It was uncanny; he looked nothing like his usual self. He wasn't sure he liked it, but needs must. “Our drummer and bassist are...indisposed at the moment.”

“Yeah, I can play a riveting rendition of 'I Stepped on the Cat,” Shinichi groused. He could and did play more, but piano wasn't something he practiced regularly.

Kaito just grinned. “Let's go see Jii.”

They made it through and out of the other house with no trouble, walking down the street with Kaito's arm around his waist as he leaned against him, both of them hyper aware of onlookers and seeing none. The further they walked, the more Kaito's attire caught looks. Shinichi took to glaring, which seemed to help. The location felt familiar though, the closer they came to it.

“It's here~” Kaito chirped. “Ooh, it's a little busy tonight.”

Shinichi looked up at the sign. _The Blue Parrot_ , it read. “The billiards hall?” he asked. No wonder it was so familiar. It was the one Kogoro had come to on the request of the bartender. That had been an interesting case.

“Mmm! Jii owns it. His flat's above it. I don't think he's working tonight, but he's used to me coming and going at odd hours, in disguise and out.” They walked up the entryway and Kaito knocked on the door using a particular sequence of knocks, too quick and complicated for Shinichi to decode.

“Young Master? Is that you?” Shinichi heard an older voice say. Well, that explained the use of Gramps. Pretty spry for an old man, though, especially with that teleportation trick.

“Jii-chan! Want to let us in?” Kaito dropped his voice to its normal register.

“Us?”

“We'll talk about it inside.”

An older man in black trousers and a grey jumper opened the door a crack. Balding, long hair completely grey, he eyed Shinichi with great suspicion.

Kaito pushed though, pulling Shinichi in behind him. “How's everything going? Did you finish the prep for the next heist?”

Jii looked from Kaito to Shinichi. “Young Master Kaito?” He asked, eyes wide.

Kaito snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah! Don't mind the disguise! Jii, this is Kudou Shinichi, modern Holmes, world-famous detective. Precious, this is my assistant, Jii Kounosuke.” _My friend. Family._

Shinichi bowed. “Hello, nice to meet you, Jii-san.” Another pun. Huh. Actually, a surprising amount of people around them had punny names, now that he thought of it.

“I don't think I can say the same,” the old man said faintly, clearly taken aback. “Young Master—” Shinichi didn't blame him. Kaito hadn't given him any chance to adjust to Shinichi's presence. The man looked this side of a heart attack.

“Eh, you worry too much, Jii-chan, Shinichi's fine,” Kaito said, waving him off. “He knows everything.”

“But—”

“Rest assured when I say that I only have Kaito's best interests at heart,” Shinichi said.

The man narrowed his eyes. “His best interests don't necessarily mean his freedom, boy. And you have fought very hard to capture and unmask him, ‘Edogawa Conan.’”

“Huh,” Shinichi said. “That's usually the other way around.” But it was nice to see Kaito had someone close to support him. Not for the first time, he wondered about his own parents' connection to Kaito's, and why he'd never heard anything of the sort. His father and Kaitou Kid the original had been friends. Kaito's mother knew enough of Shinichi's own mother to call him by that stupid nickname, with the implication being Kuroba Chikage had cut off contact for their safety after Kuroba Touichi's death. Speaking of his mother, Kudou Yukiko did have a lot of contacts in New York...Hmm. Another avenue to pursue.

“Heheheh! Always looking out for me, Jii-chan!” Kaito said, smile wide. “In any case, it's like mum and my old man.” He gave him a thumbs up, still grinning, and then wrapped his arms around Shinichi and cuddled into his chest. Shinichi tucked his arm around him in a show of solidarity, careful to avoid his injured shoulder.

“You mean you're—”

“Un~” Kaito said, beaming.

“And it's not a cover?” he asked, voice still faint.

“Nope!” Kaito said flippantly. “Anyway, can we stay the night?”

“Of course, but why?”

“Because there are people after the both of us us and one blew up my classroom. With me in it.”

“Young Master!” Fear and worry permeated those words. Shinichi was impressed by how well Jii was dealing with the bevy of things Kaito was throwing his way. Then again, he worked with Kaito, and by his use of bocchama, probably his father as well. He was probably used to the absurd and unusual.

Kaito plowed on. “Shinichi nearly got shot yesterday. They might know where we live, so staying at home isn't an option. _The Blue Parrot_ isn't a well-known hangout of mine, except to Aoko.” He tilted his head. “Well, she did tell Akako and Hakuba…Anyway, we should be safe for one night.”

“Were you injured?” Jii said, grabbing Kaito and checking him over.

“It isn't that serious,” Kaito said, shrugging him off.

“Don't listen to him, he lost a lot of blood,” Shinichi said. If only he knew. “If you could feed him, that'd be great.”

The old man nodded his assent. “You don't need medical attention?” Jii asked. “There's a hospital just a few blocks away.”

“And have them attack me in my hospital room? No way! I don't wanna die," Kaito confided in a loud whisper. "I'm vulnerable!"

“I did what I could, but he’s stubborn,” Shinichi said.

Jii gave a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, he is. Just like his father.” Shinichi suspected he'd worked with the original Kaitou Kid. It was nice to have confirmation.

“Don't worry; we'll move on tomorrow. I don't want you in danger either, Jii,” Kaito said, serious.

“I'd gladly give my life for you, Young Master. You can stay as long as you like!” Jii said vehemently. Good to know he was loyal, too. Shinichi was starting to like the picture he was getting of one Jii Kounosuke.

Kaito shook his head. “If I die, someone who knows everything should take it to Inspector Nakamori.”

“Young Master! Someone your age shouldn't talk about dying so freely. That's for old men like me.”

“Don't implicate yourself, but other than that, tell him everything.”

“I promised your father I’d look out for you! It won't come to that!”

“Jii,” Kaito said, a command and a plea at the same time.

The old man slumped. “Yes, young master Kaito.”

Kaito clapped him on the arm. “You're indispensable, Jii-chan. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“I'll lay out some futons. Just one thing I beg of you: no shenanigans. I know what people your age like to get up to.”

“No shenanigans, promise,” Kaito said, grinning.

-

Hours later as Kudou was sleeping, Jii came to sit by the young master, who was still awake and perched by the window in _The Blue Parrot,_ staring up at the waning moon, Aoko’s contact picture up on his phone that dangled loosely in his hand. Twenty-six missed calls, it said.

“Aoko-san?” he asked him, voice soft.

Kaito laughed, bitter and rueful, and tossed something his way. “Check it.”

Jii automatically reached out and caught it, hand up. “This is—”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, tucking his knees to his chest. “Yeah,” he said again. “I think I'm in over my head, this time.”

“Seems like Kudou-san will help you stay above the water,” Jii offered, examining the jewel with a critical eye through a loupe. Good quality. Flawless, without the minuscule amount of detritus one expected from a natural diamond, not visible even with the magnification.

He'd had his suspicions about the boy, but Kudou had always played by his own set of rules, not always to the letter of the law, as he'd proven on the train and several other times in his and Kaito's "acquaintance." Kaito had a way of working everything to his advantage. Jii had no doubt this was a part of some plan Kaito had. Manipulation and sincere affection weren't always mutually exclusive, and the young master often plotted on several different levels.

“Yeah, I really lucked out, didn't I?”

“You seem to care a great deal for him.” He agreed with Kaito's initial assessment. The gem was a real diamond, though hard to tell without a spectrometer whether it was lab-grown or natural, especially as those tended to be yellow unless coloured with different trace elements. He'd have to retrieve it in the morning. The term synthetic was a bit of a misnomer. Large, though, if it was cultured. Manufactured diamonds tended to be on the smaller side.

He looked up as Kaito spoke again. “I always have,” Kaito clapped his hand over his mouth. “In a sense,” he added afterwards, through his hand, making him sound muffled.  “As in not wanting him to die or come to grievous bodily harm.” Each sentence came out weaker and weaker. Jii didn't smile, but he wanted to. Such was the lot of a teenager.

“... Right,” Jii said, putting the loupe down so he could give him a pointed look.

He slumped. “Yeah, I don't believe me, either. Ugh, feelings.”

“I don't mean to doubt you, Young Master Kaito, but are you sure about him?”

“I've never been surer of anything in my life,” Kaito said, his voice firm.

“But you and Aoko-san seemed—”

“I know, Jii. I know.”

“So suddenly, too.”

“It is that way, isn't it?” Kaito gave another rueful laugh. “It seems like it's been a lifetime since Saturday, but it's only early Wednesday. Heh. Hell of a week.”

“The heist?” Jii hadn't seen Kaito since he pitched himself off a neighbouring roof before the heist, but the news reports had commented on the oddity of Kudou Shinichi, famed homicide detective, being at a Kid heist. Very few people knew he and the Kid Killer were one and the same, and Kaito had only informed him during the _Sunflowers_ heist-that-wasn’t.

Kaito had always treated Kudou's involvement like a game. He _thrived_ on the challenge he'd presented. Flourished even. They'd only been dating since Saturday? Not as odd as it might have seemed, if one had the other pieces of the puzzle. The interest had been there for far longer. Kaito loved challenges. It was inherent to his character. It had been the same for young Aoko's affection. Kaito had a type, it seemed.

“The gem shines a different colour in the moonlight, Jii-chan.”

Jii's eyes widened, stunned. It couldn't be! He walked over to the window and held the jewel up to the moon.

“Wait, Jii—” Kaito scrambled to knock it out of Jii’s hand, but Jii had already seen what he needed to see.

“I don't believe it,” he said. Inside, a blue light from a second internal gem shone as the moonlight refracted from the facets of the gem. But the swirling starry abyss inside the doublet bleeding into the blue as Kaito touched it—

“It's not Pandora,” Kaito said. And then the oddest thing: a sigh of relief.

“What?” Jii asked numbly.

“Jii-chan, you're family, but having you in my head would be awkward,” Kaito muttered, gently squeezing his wrist and forcing Jii to drop it into his hand.

“I beg your pardon?” Jii asked, unsure if he had heard him right.

“Nevermind. But it's not Pandora. That box that should never be opened. That I can assure you. I know that for a fact.”

“How are you so sure, Young Master Kaito?”

“Because of what it does. It took a bond between rivals, and it strengthened and forged it into an unbreakable connection.”

“What do you mean? Jii asked. Kaito didn't say. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment.

The door opened a few seconds later. With a big yawn, Kudou-san staggered into the bar, sitting at a stool, rubbing at his eyes. “You didn't have to yell so loudly, Kaito.”

Kaito quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing else.

“No, I know you know exactly what you're doing, I—” At that point, he seemed to realise what he was doing and who he was talking to. “And if?” Then he went silent as well, leading to what seemed to be a long and intense staring contest, nothing but their facial expressions and body language shifting.

Jii looked between them. “An unbreakable connection?”

“Mind link,” they said in unison. They glanced at each other and grinned. “Kind of like telepathy,” Kaito added.

Jii found it hard to believe, but he knew better than to question young Master Kaito, especially in matters like this. It could also be an explanation for how eerily in-sync they were. He wouldn't say it if it weren't true, no matter how unbelievable it was. Like the lady's sorcery. He'd learned that when he found out about the child who was standing in front of him as an adult, which had long since proven to be true. “I see.” How well and how quickly could you learn someone when they had access to your innermost thoughts and feelings? Privacy would be a foreign concept.

Kudou yawned. “So what was this about another heist?”

“Sure you want to know? Grand theft gets what, five to ten years, not counting breaking and entering? Just in Japan?”

“So does an accessory after the fact,” another yawn, “which I am,” he counted on his fingers. “At least twice, since I let you go when I definitely had you. Probably closer to five or six, though, counting everything.  Accessory before the fact is what, two, so,” he shrugged. “Really not much difference being an accomplice. Might as well.”

Kaito stared at him, mouth open, eyes wide, like he'd been hit by a hammer, before it turned into a devastating grin.

Kudou flushed red and looked a little panicked, throwing a glance at Jii, and then turned a deeper shade of red and looked down—before glancing back up, eyes hungry.

So odd, to watch them both. One would think they hadn't had a care in the world. They stayed close, Kudou watching Kaito's brightly smiling face with an intensity Jii was very familiar with, like Kaito was the only person in the room. So it was reciprocated. Jii had been a little worried. Such a great and unusual show of trust from Kaito. Maybe the young master wouldn't completely close up after all. It was something that he feared. He'd lost the light in his eyes once his father died. They said time healed; it didn't. It just made things easier to bear.

Well, if he didn't believe they were mentally communicating before, he certainly did now. Looking up at the ceiling and sighing, he resigned himself to hormonal teenagers. “Dom Pedro Aquamarine,” Jii found himself saying to distract them. “On loan from the Smithsonian to one Suzuki Jirokichi.”

“Isn't that the really large chunk of aquamarine?” Kudou said, frowning. “The one cut from a crystal almost a meter long?”

“Mmm!” Kaito put his hands behind his head, wincing at the movement. “It's said that only the Grand Gems that are candidates for Pandora, and it's the largest gem quality cut aquamarine. Ten thousand carats. Looks like it glows from within with a light source behind it. I have got to get that under the moonlight.”

“I see your point,” Kudou said. “But good luck carrying it around.” Kaito grinned.

“In any case, it will be shown for a short time two weeks from now at the Suzuki Museum of Natural History, which makes it easier on me.”

“Easier? How so?” Kudou said.

“Hakuba's back, but for some reason, he never goes to Suzuki heists, so really, I'll only have to deal with Inspector Nakamori and the old man.”

“It's wise not to get too cocky, young master Kaito,” Jii reminded him. "Remember the last time."

“I know, I know. Still,” he sighed. “I'll miss the challenge. After all, the 'Kid Killer' won't be there.” He flashed Kudou a grin. ”Still, we’ve planned accordingly, anyway, in case of surprises. It wouldn't be the first time Hakuba's showed up unexpectedly.” He held the gem in his hand up to the moonlight.

It flashed blue and zoomed out of his hand, and Jii felt a black void swallow them all. Stars blossomed on the ceiling. He felt like he was in a planetarium. “Young master! What is this? These stars…”

“You can see it? Interesting! Just a side-effect.” Kaito said. “Time to put your theory to the test, precious. What was it again?”

“G whole, A, G half, B, G, quarter, C, G eighth, D, A whole, E and so on, standard time. All the way to Z If we add the extra two notes as space and punctuation…” Kudou said, scribbling furiously in a small book.

“Can you hear it as well, Jii-chan? The music?”

“No. No music. What is it?” Jii said, still awed by the view. Kaito had said magic was real, but this...this was proof. Pandora _had_ to be real. Master Touichi wasn't killed for nothing. He was suddenly out of his depth, feeling very faint.

Kudou was still writing. “Slightly discordant, but following along, it plays in a loop:

_This light to be the guide for those who share the common mind_

_For the golden path to open seven figures must align_

_The First is Prometheus, tortured and chained_

_The Second is Gaia, all mother sustained_

_The Third is Menoetius, lord of rage and frenzy_

_The Fourth is Raidne, temptress of many_

_The Fifth is Helios, oaths and sun and shine_

_The Sixth is Aether, light of the sublime_

_The Seventh is Asteria, fallen stars and night_

_They follow one by one, unveiling the light_

Then it just repeats. It took me a few tries to work out the code, but I was certain the notes weren't exactly flowing,” Kudou said. “Glad to see I was right.”

“I know most of the figures. They're Titans,” Kaito said. A few taps on his phone. “Ah. Raidne is a not-so-common addition to the sirens.”

“The first line is you and me if you consider us ‘sharing a common mind,’” Kudou agreed. “A guide to what?”

“The real purpose of the jewel?” Kaito guessed. “You can't find any of them in the stars. Well, Helios is the sun, but it's not the same. And what does it have to do with Lyra and Cygnus?”

“Perhaps it was pointing to the next phase of the riddle? That it would have to do with the music?” Kudou said. “Orpheus would play, so to speak.”

“But it's just a list of mythological figures and their basic descriptions,” Kaito said.

“They follow one by one, unveiling the light,” Kudou said. They both tilted their heads in unison.

“Another mystery,” said Kaito. “As if we didn't have enough already.”

But Kudou was grinning, looking disturbingly like the young master's own. “It's a map. It has to be. I don't know the significance of the names yet, but it said it would unveil. What? On its own it's not much of a clue, but taken with 'guide’ and 'path’ it has to be. There's also something else: when I fell into your dream, the path that led me to you was gold. And last night, I was on a gold path and fell through no seeming fault of my own.”

Kaito stiffened. “When we ah, fully 'merge'…” he trailed off.

Kudou nodded. “The light is golden then, too.”

 


	9. The Call

Silence. Kuroba Chikage's heels clacked against the hardwood floor of the local art museum. The grand gallery, filled with treasures from across the globe, appeared almost ethereal in the late afternoon light. These places held a sort of reverence, she thought. Silent mausoleums of the past, gilt and gold everywhere. She inhaled deeply; the age was present even in the smell. This section of the museum was Italianate and decorated with many antiques amongst the paintings and sculptures.

It had been a long time since she’d been able to step foot in one without a poignant reminder of her loss, so she didn't visit them as often as she used to. The security measures had modernised, but for what mattered, it was as much the same as it ever was. Part of her itched to be at Touichi’s side, his witty commentary and warm voice in her ear, his arm around her waist.

But she was alone, and so forced the feeling down. It had been years, yes, but there were times she felt his loss keenly as if it had happened only yesterday.

She sat down gracefully on the bench at the end of the European hall, eyeing the canvas in front of her with mild amusement. _Diane et Endymion_ , as painted by Nicolas Poussin, famed French Baroque artist. Endymion was down on one knee, shepherd's crook at his side, Diana looking at down at him, Apollo and his chariot in the background. Endymion was enamoured with the Moon as the legend went, charting her path, long staring at her at night as he watched over the sheep. Diana, goddess of the moon and the hunt, caught his eye upon her, and became enraptured with his beauty in return, so much so that she asked Zeus, his father, to grant him eternal youth. Zeus did, in his fashion—he granted the young shepherd eternal sleep; he would never wake, but he would never die.

Diana may as well have been the patron goddess of phantom thieves, such as they were bound to the moon and to the hunt—the Phantom Thief Kid most of all for his search for the jewel that shone red under the moonlight.

Her eyes flickered to the passage which led from the European hall to the American wing, the modernist interior a stark contrast to the warm, polished wood. Her target lay just out of sight behind the thick glass of a display case.

 _The Golden Eagle_. A solid gold eagle statue, white-gold head adorned with near a thousand small diamonds and weighing around eight kilogrammes, yellow-gold wings half unfurled. The emerald in its talons was nowhere close to a Grand Jewel, only 12 carats and change, but that wasn’t the point of this particular heist. The cutting of the historical Atocha Star Emerald into almost half was a tragedy, itself a prize recovered from the Spanish Galleon _Nuestra Señora de Atocha_. The ship was sunken by a hurricane in 1622 enroute from South America to Spain. The story of the statue was one of greed by multiple parties, and the statue itself was gaudy, seemingly influenced by Empire style. Worth about 900 million yen, or 8 million USD at the last appraisal.

Chikage used her peripheral vision to mark the cameras without directly looking at them, adding to her mental map. One sweeping the door, two more in the corners, and three out of sight, one leading down towards the hall. Not that she’d be avoiding them; no, not this time. The point was to grab as much attention as possible. Still, it was helpful to know where they were, so they would get her best angle when she performed.

Three possible points of entry, and at least two obstacles in the form of thick doors. The fire door on this level led directly out to the street on the side, but that wasn’t the Kid’s _modus operandi_. The museum was only four floors, so the hang glider was out. She crossed her legs and adjusted her skirt. Well, no one could say that Kid didn't shake things up every now and then. She'd worked under harsher conditions, and it would be no matter to walk out in a disguise.

The display was on the first floor in the traveling exhibit room, just across from the grand staircase leading up from the ballroom. This particular room had extra protections installed due to the price of the display, including a metal door that would slide down in the event of a theft, and that was the least of them. She’d detected two pressure plates hidden in the floor under a rug, and the glass case itself was booby-trapped with a pressure sensor, a high-tech alarm system with a thumbprint scanner, and an electrified base. The glass would act as an insulator, but once it was removed, well. Woe to the unwary thief. The laser sensors weren’t on at the moment and probably invisible to the eye when they were, but the strategic placement of certain works of art made her think they were there.

Chikage could almost guarantee they did not secure the faux-wood ceiling tiles and crawl space, which made the next room over the point of entry, as it had an elevator with access. It was almost too easy, but she wouldn’t let herself get cocky. It wouldn’t be the first time the ceiling had held unexpected surprises, and the vents were gated off and screwed down from what she could tell. Well, at least they weren’t welded shut.

It felt great to case the museum, almost like coming home.

Since Touichi's death…she'd forgotten this thrill. She'd retired before that, of course, but she'd lived through him, in a way. Her dashing, debonair darling. Her heart.

Just as she was now living through her son. Her delightful star had really grown his wings, stretching them and taking flight where she could not follow—in a world exponentially more dangerous than her own had been.

A son that pushed her to travel again instead of staying at home; an unspoken mutual agreement to keep her out of harm's way. But she was no baby tiger with milk teeth, and she had taught both him and her darling everything she'd ever known about disguise.

Yukiko and Sharon had learned from Touichi, but Touichi had learned much from her. There was a reason they referred to her as the “Lady with Twenty Faces,” after all, and more than just as a reference to Akechi Kogorou’s archenemy.

The legerdemain, well, that was more Touichi's area of expertise, but he had shared his secrets with her as freely as she had hers with him—their marriage a true partnership in every sense of the word. And her little Kaito was the best of them both. A delight and a joy to their family, to their legacy. Children were not only made to be legacies, but also to build and grow and forge their own paths. She was so very proud of her son, even as she had never wanted him to be tangled up in this particular set of problems. Touichi hadn't wanted him to ever be involved at all, but it was so like him to have contingencies just in case.

And perhaps Chikage was culpable as well for teaching them both everything she knew. If Touichi had never become a phantom thief to protect her, those men wouldn't have demanded he steal for them, and he wouldn't have died in the accident that wasn’t.

She smiled bitterly. Too late for regrets. Perhaps those mistakes wouldn't be repeated in the next generation.

Kaito’s star shone so brightly. And those were the first to burn out.

Just from her short return home, she could see that Kaito had begun to grow sharp edges. It was why she had encouraged him to come here, why she had challenged him herself. Chikage couldn't bear it if he lost his convictions, lost the carefree part of himself; it was what made him who he was. She’d feared for him. She ran her fingers through her black wig.

But something had changed in him, the last time they’d talked, and she knew the cause. It had been an absolute surprise to see a young Yuusaku peering out at her with Yukiko's eyes. It had taken her breath away how much he'd resembled her old friends.

Kudou Shinichi and her Kaito, who would have thought they would have found each other after all this time? Certainly not her. It was clear they hadn’t even remembered one another, though they had been very small the last time they’d met. Then again, was it really all that surprising for them to have come together?

Oh, but Yuusaku and Touichi had enjoyed their game; it hadn’t taken long for Yuusaku to realise the new phantom thief was his old magician friend. The passion of the chase, of the challenge, of two rivals locked in a forever game of cat-and-mouse. She’d seen it once before. Been a part of it even, enjoyed it ever so much.

And to see it again?

It nearly took her breath away. Just in how they looked at each other, how they spoke, even in the short time she’d been able to see them interact. Those boys were absolutely smitten with one another. Kaito had softened, let someone in, had someone to face the future with, someone able to move in the world with him and watch his back, the way Touichi had watched hers. She was happy they'd fallen together for that reason alone. A detective, of all things. However Shin-chan had found out about Kaito’s identity, he hadn’t turned him in. The glory of the chase. There were only so many reasons they’d meet on a rooftop in the moonlight. A cat-and-mouse game, indeed. A partnership, even better.

Chikage frowned. They were going to need each other before the end of it all. Such danger the both of them were in. She'd heard about the arrest of several prominent Japanese and international businessmen, even here, and Shin-chan's hand in it. She adjusted her glasses.

A voice pulled Chikage from her thoughts. “Is this seat taken, my dear?” said a voice in crisp English.

Chikage jumped. She had been lost in thought yes, but she hadn't even noticed his approach. She'd been out of the game, but she'd kept her skills sharp. The man had to be light on his feet, or he had some experience himself.

She looked up. The man in front of her towered over her, over twice her height while sitting. He had an ascetic appearance; his face, clean shaven, had sharp cheekbones that appeared carved from marble and hollowed cheeks, at odds with his high domed forehead, which was deeply lined and capped by pepper grey hair. His eyes, the colour of a stormy sea, gave away his Japanese ancestry, and appeared sunken in, though still sharp, and were lit with a cold fire. His whole frame was angular, in fact. His tweed suit was a touch ill-fitting; it hung loosely from his slender twig-like frame, and his crooked bow-tie gave the impression of one wholly unconcerned with appearance.

“No, not at all,” she said. “Please.” She swept her hand to the side, gesturing to the other side of the bench.

The man sat down next to her a little closer than was strictly polite, but not so much that she could call him out on it. “Interesting painting,” he said, turning that stare towards Diana and Endymion.

“I suppose,” she replied.

“You must think so. You've been staring at it for quite a while,” he said, trying to engage her in conversation.

She didn’t particularly feel like entertaining him, but it would appear odd if she at least didn’t indulge him a bit. “It’s the interplay between dark and light that draws the eye,” she said, shifting. “I do find it rather pleasing.”

“Is it sunrise or sunset, I wonder?” the man said. “Apollo's chariot is crossing the sky.”

“Does it matter?” Chikage said. “They meet on the border. Even day must give way to the night in time.”

“Only to rise again the next day,” the man said.

“Still, night comes again, no matter how long the day stretches. Is it any wonder the ancients held time was cyclical?” Chikage asked.

“What would you do if the day never ended?” The man asked.

She frowned. He couldn’t be implying what she thought he was implying. Immortality. “That’s impossible.”

“But if it were?”

“Diana would be out of a job, for one.” The man smiled, if one could call it that. The corner of his mouth twisted like a gnarled tree. He had grey hair and slight wrinkles, but it was hard to ascribe to him a definite age. “The sun would scorch everything. Our world was meant to turn.”

“A scientific answer.”

“You say that as if you’re surprised to hear it coming from someone who enjoys art,” she said, considering.

“I just find it rather uncommon. Those who profess an interest in the sciences often consider art frivolous, and _vice versa_.”

Chikage frowned. “Not in my experience. The world is filled with plenty of people well-aware we need both. Are you such a man?” she asked. “You’re here, after all.”

“In part. My interests do lie in the realm of science, particularly that of the heavens.”

“Astronomy?”

“Astrophysics, as a matter of fact, though I’ve dabbled in pure mathematics.”

Chikage gestured to the painting in front of her. “And your take on this?”

He looked pensive, eyes sweeping back over the painting. “‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever,’” he said.

“Keats,” she replied. “Early, if I’m not mistaken. “‘Endymion.’ Everyone knows that first line.”

“Well-read, too,” He murmured. “I should have expected that of you.”

“I beg pardon?” Chikage said, deeply unnerved. “Have we met before?”

“Oh, not personally,” he said, and her unease grew. “But it is fascinating, isn’t it?” he said, gesturing back to the frame. “Popular culture is filled with mortals falling in love with immortals, and immortals loving them in return. Diana and Endymion's tale is one of the happiest, I think. Her love lives on, even though he sleeps.”

Chikage's stomach turned. Again with the immortality, only this time he didn't couch it in metaphors. Did they know she was here as Kid? _Touichi_ … “I think,” she said tartly, “that's a matter of perspective. Death and sleep are practically synonymous in this situation.”

“Such pessimism!” He sounded amused. “There’s always a chance for him to wake up. Death is another story. Diana did test Endymion to prove his worth, tempting him with mortal pleasures.”

“She's not Diana in Keats's poem,” Chikage said.

“Diana for the Romans, the Titan Selene for the Greeks, Cynthia for Keats—a woman of many names and faces, but in end, they are all her,” he said. “To be worthy of such a woman!”

Chikage didn't know how to take that.

The man continued, his face dispassionate, seemingly at odds with his voice, which was not. “I, too, would wander the deepest depths of the Underworld for her. Wouldn't you?” He turned those sea storm eyes on her.

She opened her mouth to answer, to demur—the question was highly personal—but she was interrupted by the sound of the man's mobile phone.

The Japanese rang out clearly in the silent museum. Several patrons gave the man dark looks for interrupting the quiet. “ _Mother crow, mother crow, why do you squawk so? / Because high on the mountain, I have seven cute children—_ ”

When he spoke, it was also in Japanese. “Yes?" he said, voice cold. A pause. “No, now's not a good time. I was having a delightful conversation.” Another pause. “I see. Thank you. Yes, I'm on my way.” He closed his phone. “Sadly, our conversation must be cut short, my dear,” he said, returning to English.

“Such a shame,” she murmured, though she felt rather the opposite.

“I never did get your name,” the man mused.

“I never offered it.”

“Well, then as cordial strangers we shall depart.” he said, giving her a short bow in which he didn't bow his head or lower his eyes once. “Farewell!”

It was the way he moved, Chikage realised. That's what unsettled her more than anything else. He didn't approach towards the front. Instead, it was sort of a winding serpentine movement, indirect and cold. The warmth of his tone didn't reach his eyes. Reptilian. Cold-blooded. She shuddered again, reminded herself to be extra cautious the night of the heist.

She stood, casting one last long look at the painting, and left the room.

-

Plastic sheeting rippled in the wind, seemingly the only sound in the cool spring morning. Aoko stood still for the longest moment, hand brushing away the hair from her eyes, unable to believe what they were telling her.

She couldn't tear his eyes away from the gutted shell of Ekoda High School. The façade of the building still stood, but the roof had collapsed on itself, portions of the front wall fallen to the ground, baring the inside of the building to the world. Debris littered the pavement and the street, some on the far side of traffic. Even now, emergency workers and the police dotted the campus, combing through the debris.

She turned to her companion, who'd been standing there when she'd arrived, just staring. “Akako-chan,” she said, her voice wavering. “Our classroom.” It was completely gone. Sooty black stained the walls. Debris scored what little remained.

“I know, Nakamori Aoko,” Akako said in a grim voice, her long hair whipping in the wind, skirt ruffling against her legs.

“It's…it’s just gone,” Aoko said. Their classroom had taken the brunt of the damage, but a large portion of the lab beside it and the classroom underneath lie in ruins. “How could this—? How could anyone—? _Why_?” she said, near helplessly. “ _Who_?”

Akako frowned, a river forming on her brow. “A whisper of black feathers,” she said, shaking her head. “Death lingers here.” That was Akako-chan. As cryptic as usual. She probably liked sounding mysterious.

A shout, a scurry of people, a stretcher. Akako inclined her head towards the people picking their way over debris.

They weren't the only students there. The crowd of them shifted and the low susurrus of conversation spiked into a dull roar as people saw a corpse lifted out and placed into a body bag, as if in answer to her words. It was too far away to make out the details of who it was.

Aoko’s stomach lurched. “Kaito,” she whispered, clutching her mobile with white knuckles. She'd tried to ring him countless times, and still he wouldn't pick up. Or maybe he couldn't. Maybe he’d been in there. His cheerful smile yesterday as he waved her off, his back as he walked out of the door, hands in his pockets—she couldn't get it out of her mind, not juxtaposed the way it was with his sharp absence. “Tell me, he's not…”

Akako looked down at the fingers of her hand, turning her palm and curving them. “I don't believe so,” she said quietly, her face heavy with worry. “Yet shadows still obscure his presence. I cannot say for certain.” Her hand brushed against Aoko’s. Akako gave her a small smile and squeezed her fingers. “It cannot be him. Kuroba Kaito would not fall so easily.” Aoko bit her lip. No, he wouldn’t. She squeezed back, her grip tight.

She turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Hakuba-kun!” He stood stock still, staring at the school for a long moment, before his wide eyes shuttered into something far more pensive, his mouth a grim line as he pursed his lips. “Hakuba-kun, have you heard from Kaito?” she asked.

“I...no,” he said, “ You haven’t seen him?” Hakuba said, voice low, urgent, intense.

Aoko shook her head. “Not since yesterday. Kaito didn't come over for dinner last night like he promised,” Aoko said. “He's not answering his phone or mails, either.” Her hands shook. Akako’s grip tightened, grounding her. “They just took someone out in a body bag.”

Hakuba’s expression hardened. “You think it might be Kuroba.” Aoko nodded. “I’ll look into it,” he promised, giving her a smile that was supposed to be reassuring, but it just looked forced, a pale shade of itself.

“You must,” Akako said, her voice laced with a firm, pleading tone that made Hakuba gave her a searching look, which she met. Something passed between the two, something that Aoko couldn’t define. Hakuba watched Akako like a suspect, as if he were trying to determine her motives.

Frowning, he walked towards the police cordon, stopping only at a small bush near the pavement. Hakuba knelt down, grabbing his handkerchief, and picked up a scrap of fabric, untangling it from the branch. White and blue silk, knotted together, half burned, the charred edges a stark contrast to the bright colours of the rest. Remnants of a magician's scarf.

“That’s Kaito’s,” Aoko said. “He _was_ here.” Her voice caught, wavering again; she tried so hard to stop herself, but she couldn’t quite manage it.

“Where are you, Kuroba?” Hakuba murmured. He pulled out his phone, paged over to the contacts, and dialed. It rang and rang and rang. At the end of the call, he frowned. “Something’s not right,” he said. “Kudou’s not answering either.”

Aoko tilted her head. “Kudou?”

“His boyfriend. I thought he told you,” Hakuba said, raising his brow.

“Not by name,” Aoko said. And then a thought occurred to her. A detective. One that faced down murderers on a regular basis and wasn’t a police detective, but worked with them. “Wait, that wouldn't happen to be—”

“Kudou Shinichi,” Hakuba finished.

Akako gave a wry smile. “I did warn you Kuroba Kaito had caught himself Death. The boy whom even the logical police say has the shinigami on his heels.”

“Kaito and Kudou Shinichi?” Aoko said again, still stunned. “ _That’s_ the detective?” she said, her voice rising.

Hakuba eyed her. “I don't understand.”

“He just told me he was a detective! He didn't say anything about it being _him_!” Aoko said, stomping her foot and clenching her hands into fists. “He thinks he's better than my dad!” she shouted. “He showed up at the Ekoda Clock Tower a couple of years ago and ordered Dad’s division around, and then just this last Saturday he did the same at Beika Natural History Museum! He’s as smug and arrogant as Kid! That's just like Kaito to pick the most infuriating person to—!” she cut herself off, looking around her sheepishly. People were now staring at the three of them, curiosity in their expressions.

Hakuba's eyes’ however, had narrowed at her words. He glanced up at the school for a long moment and then gave a decisive nod, as if he were confirming something to himself. He took a quick step towards the police cordon. “I have a hypothesis.”

Akako crossed her arms. “Do tell, Detective.”

“Not until a few questions of mine are answered,” Hakuba said, glancing towards the police presence. “Aoko-kun, when’s the last time you heard from him?”

“Same as you. He left when Konno-sensei called him to the office yesterday afternoon for a meeting.” Aoko bit her lip. “I did get a mail after that.” She held out her phone:

 
    
    
    From: Kaito                     yesterday, 16:32
         
    Will b l8. C u at din-din Aoko~♥ 
    Hope u don't mind a +1 (＾▽＾)

 

“He was planning on introducing you two, I think.” Hakuba said.

Aoko nodded. “I think so, too.”

“And it was his turn to clean the classroom. He had a set time and place, staggered after the meeting so he would likely be the only one there. While not quite public knowledge, it's not something that would be terribly difficult to get ahold of.” Hakuba stroked his chin. “The only thing would be time of access. Kuroba's meeting with Konno-sensei, do you know anything about it?”

“Only that the time was set this morning. His mother called.” Aoko bit her lip. “I asked him about it and he wouldn't tell me anything.”

“Was it a time bomb, remotely detonated, or locally triggered?” Hakuba muttered to himself.

She wrung her hands. “Um, Hakuba-kun?”

“Yes, Aoko-kun?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Will you go with me to check on Kaito, just in case he made it home?”

Hakuba blinked, looking a little taken aback. “Yes, I'll go with you.”

“Great! Aoko’s sure a detective's eye will be able to see things Aoko can't.” Aoko said, voice forcefully chipper. She didn’t dip much into childlike illeism much anymore, but right now she needed it.

“I'm coming, too,” Koizumi-san said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Koizumi-san,” Hakuba began.

“Please, Hakuba-kun, call me Akako-chan,” she said, giving him an enigmatic smile.

Hakuba stared at her again, looking as if he was trying to decipher the intentions behind the placid expression. “Akako-san, then.”

“Thank you, Akako-chan,” Aoko said quietly.

-

Hacking. Not exactly the flashiest of work, but well, it had its moments. Cracking an online database, manoeuvring through the code...Kaito cracked his knuckles and grinned. Oh, yes. Not that he’d be finding exactly what he was looking for like this. No, contrary to popular belief, most people were intelligent enough to keep their important data on location and unable to be accessed from an outside network.

Still, transactions left traces, and knowing the names of two major fronts for the Black Organisation, Y— Pharmaceutical and D—, he had a place to start.

Y— Pharmaceutical had its hands in everything from over the counter to veterinary medicine and had spent a great deal of money in recent years fighting Japan's stimulant ban. D— was Japan's largest media and technology conglomerate, though they had their hands in many other sectors, such as the automotive industry. Kaito had no doubt there were more he wasn't aware of. A half a dozen other companies with org connections were undergoing internal audits after the Third, Seventh, and Ninth divisions got hold of them, according to Shinichi.

Confiscated most of their assets too, set to sit in evidence for who knew how long. Too much to go through, too little personnel, even including the ten or so involved international police forces through INTERPOL. A veritable leviathan Shinichi’s Black Organisation had been, slumbering in the deeps for over half a century before Shinichi had woken them and fought the beast. It was nice to think one raid would have it over with, but there was a very real possibility it would take the rest of their natural lives, if not longer. One consolation was they had arrested most of the high-ranking members—those who didn't die in the firefight during the takedown.

After he had disguised himself as the woman in that video for Shinichi, he’d made a point to keep an eye on just whom he’d been dealing with in case they ever crossed paths again. Kaito had also come to a conclusion involving her and a certain little miss he’d kept to himself in the interest of all parties.

(He hadn't wanted to admit to himself then that he may have been worried about his littlest detective's life, but it was beside the point now)

In any case, one name kept coming up in connection with indictments, though. One Tanaka Daisuke. A quick peek using Inspector Nakamori's credentials had him as a witness against several of the mid-ranked members of the organisation, through not listed as a member himself. Funnily enough, he still had the freedom of working in his office; the police hadn't found any incriminating evidence on him. Kaito figured they weren't looking hard enough.

He bet himself 20,000 yen he could find something. It smelled fis—rotten. Tanaka had to be a middleman or something; no way he was clean.

“Something’s not right,” Shinichi said as if in answer to his thoughts, rattling the newspaper, folding it up, and pushing it to the side of the kitchen table on top of the pile. He had like ten of the things, picked up from a local konbini and carried diligently back to their tiny studio flat, the current safehouse in Haido Ward. Kaito wondered why he didn't use the internet for news like everyone else.

Kaito looked up from the settee, lolly hanging from the corner of his mouth. “Eh?” he said, laptop balanced precariously on his lap where he'd been looking up info on his target. Shinichi was already in his disguise, sans wig and makeup, while Kaito lounged around in thin lavender pyjamas. Though he hadn’t expected to be bothered here, there was a reason he’d gone with a light, tomboyish, flat-chested disguise. It made a long term disguise much easier, and it was easy to change into if their privacy was suddenly interrupted.

“The missing jewel still hasn't made news,” Shinichi said. “Normally they mention something to reassure the public by now, but there's been nothing.” Curiosity. Focus. The familiar pull of the hunt; they twined within Kaito, Shinichi's need-to-know distracting him enough now he wanted to assuage his own curiosity.

 _Hmm. Let's see._ Kaito pulled up a new browser window, went directly to the search engine, opening the results in new tabs. Nothing in _The Morning Sun_ or the _Reader,_ or any of the localised Kanto region papers.

Kaito pulled out the hard sweet with an obscene pop, causing a sharp spike of heat to surge from Shinichi. It hadn't been intentional. Kaito licked his lips and he filed the reaction away; mmm, maybe later.

He searched a number and dialed it on his burner phone—the one whose signal bounced around several proxy satellites—twirling the stick in his hand. He tapped the bottom of it against his laptop as he was forced to navigate through an automated answering system.

Finally, he reached a real person. He put his phone on speaker. “Tiffany and Co. Public Relations, Ananda Jones speaking,” a strident voice rang out.

“Hello ma’am,” Kaito said, modulating his voice to sound older, using a nasally American twang instead of the received pronunciation he defaulted to. He aimed southeast, not quite Texas. “I'm Jimmy Kiddo, freelance journalist. I’m doin’ a series on famous thieves, and I'd like to ask y'all a few questions about that Kid heist over in Japan since it involved an item owned by your company?”

“About Kid?” She sounded almost excited before he heard her take a deep breath, calming herself down. Ooooh, a fan. He could work with this. “I'm not allowed to comment on that,” she said, a bit hesitant.

“Shouldn’t be a problem, ma’am. That phantom thief is supposed to be the kind of stand-up guy that returns what he takes.” Shinichi shook his head; Kaito couldn't help but grin. “But I heard from one of my sources that he ain't returned that rock of yours yet.”

“Like I said, I can't talk about it.”

“All this is off the record, mind, if that's what's got y'all worried.”

“Well…” She was cracking.

He grinned, putting just the slightest amount of earnest sincerity in his next words. “It's a real hearts and minds piece—an op-ed, but I’ll tell you what; I got a bet goin’ on with my buddy Harley that he's finally showin’ his true colors. I haven't decided which way to slant it myself. I was leanin’ towards a positive spin, but if he ain't returned it yet, why, now that makes him no better than a common criminal,” Kaito said, making sure to layer scorn in his tone. He'd baited the hook, now it was time to catch the— ugh, he really had to get a handle on his errant thoughts.

Kaito waited patiently. Three, two, one. He snapped his fingers quietly. “No, Kid would never do that, at least not without a good reason!” Ms. Jones exploded in a rush.

Kaito snorted. “Excuse me, ma’am, if I can't believe it.”

“You said this was off the record, right Mr. Kiddo?” Jones said.

“Yes’um. Cross my heart.” Kaito did a motion of crossing his heart as Shinichi rolled his eyes.

“I don't know who your source is, but it made it back safely. We just got it in with one of our associates this morning.”

“Really now?" Kaito didn't have to feign the surprise in his voice. "He's been known to switch 'em out with fakes.”

“No. From what I hear, we haven't had time to put it through the entire battery of tests, but preliminary inspection with our jewelers says it's the real deal. Pretty typical of Phantom Thief Kid, huh?” Ms. Jones said, sounding almost proud. “Gave it directly to our liaison.” Excitement thrummed underneath his skin. He did no such thing. How very interesting!

“Thank you very kindly, my dear,” Kaito said. He hung up, smile dropping from his face. “You heard that, Shinichi?”

He nodded. “Genuine confusion. Which means either the gem we have is a fake, or the one that was returned was.”

“You saw Jii-chan check it through the spectrometer before we left; it’s a natural diamond.”

“Or it reads like one.” Shinichi nodded again. “You know, I wasn't serious,” Shinichi said, tapping his fingers on the table, “when I brought it up.” Uneasiness, discomfort. He shifted in his seat at the small table.

“About what?” Kaito leaned back. Just what was he leading to?

“Using a real diamond as a decoy.”

Kaito did recall that speculation from their first date. “Hmm. Turns out you were right. The liaison is lying, or there was a Kid impersonator that somehow escaped my notice—doubtful—or the woman is lying.”

“Maybe,” Shinichi said, but disbelief and incredulity curled along the link, along with a growing sense of morbid fascination. An idea, whispering on the edges of Shinichi's mind, but still too clouded for him to hear.

Kaito's curiosity piqued. “Oh?”

Hesitance. Kaito sent him the mental equivalent of a poke. ... _Perhaps it's a magic simulacrum,_ Shinichi sent through the link finally with a wave of embarrassment, almost as if he were afraid to say it out loud.

Well, well, well. Shinichi acknowledging the existence of magic was one thing. Actively considering it a viable solution to a problem, well. Kaito swirled his tongue around the candy, then put it back into his mouth, thinking. _Well, 'When you have eliminated the impossible_ …’

 _'...Whatever else remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth._ ’ “ _The Sign of Four._ My favourite,” Shinichi said. He shook his head. “You, quoting Holmes.”

Kaito pouted. “I’ve read them all, you know. And I could make a decent Watson. Imagine it,” he said with a sweep of his arm, _The Great Modern Holmes and his assistant, the good Doctor Watson, magician on the side. “_ With these hands,” he wiggled his fingers, twirling the stick of the candy through them, “I'd be an adroit surgeon.” Shinichi watched his hands avidly. He liked focussing on his hands, Kaito had noticed. He studied them; they captivated him even now. Shinichi didn’t have his wig on, and he was all the better for it, in Kaito’s not-so-humble-opinion. The flashy wig distracted attention from his intense eyes—which was the point, admittedly, but he didn't have to like it.

“Plot twist: Watson is actually Lupin in disguise,” Shinichi said wryly.

“Oh no! I've been caught!” But what a fantastic idea, hmm. There might be something there. What would Shinichi think about a heist based on Sherlock Holmes, sort of an homage? Probably would be morally offended. Kaito was certain Hakuba would have a coronary. He rubbed his hands together. That would almost make the set-up and resulting suspicion worth it. He pulled up the app and sent a quick mail to Jii-chan. Senhor Dom Pedro would be escorted off in _style_.

Shinichi quirked his lip. “Back to the point, magic isn't something I'd thought to factor in before, but now that I know and have definitive proof, I wouldn't be much of a detective if I ignored the possibilities—disregarding how such a construct of magic might be made.”

Akako's voice flitted through his mind. An object of great power...hmmm. What would it take to make one? Could be natural but magically imbued and hidden from detection. The witch had used disguise magic to assist her when she'd had her stint as Kid, and then there were Spider’s illusions which were more magic than magician. Kaito tilted his head, curious. “Rules?”

“I can't believe it doesn't have a set of laws. Everything does,” Shinichi said.

“Tell me more,” Kaito purred, leaning forward. Shinichi had been thinking more thinky-thoughts, it seemed. He liked that very much. He could deduce many of the same things, but there was something special about being privy to his thought process.

 _Like our link for instance. It was facilitated by the jewel._ Shinchi broadcasted the image of the floating yellow diamond in his mind. _But as much as it projects,_ the galaxy bloomed, _it’s not actually teleportation; it just messes with the senses. It might be accurate to call it information transference. The light, the projection, the music, the connection: all of it is a way to access or pass on information. It all appears to manipulate the senses to a certain degree in order to spread said information._

Kaito couldn't help it. He grinned. Not a defense mechanism, but information? He could see that. “So magic is acceptable so long as it has rules?”

Shinichi blinked. “Why wouldn't it be? Everything has laws governing the way it works. It's just a matter of knowing what they are. _” In any case, one could argue that information-sharing is its primary purpose._

His grin grew. “But of course!”

Shinichi stood up, looking away from Kaito at the dim daylight coming through the shaded window. “I'm not happy having to adjust, but I'd be twice an idiot if I didn't acknowledge its truth, especially with clear proof.”

Kaito put the laptop on a side table and surged up, closing the short distance to the table and wrapped Shinichi in a hug from behind, careful with his wounds, pulling him back down with him with his good arm. “This is why you're my favourite,” he said, nuzzling his cheek, filled with sincerity, with love.

Surprise and bewilderment and slow, curling pleasure, almost like Shinichi couldn't believe he could be anyone's favourite, though he was so very, very pleased. Shinichi might not be the most demonstrative of people, and might have all the softness of a prickly pear, but he craved touch like a man lost at sea craved land, so Kaito tightened his hold.

“Am I?” Shinichi said almost absently, still a little dazed. Kaito pulled him closer, taking most of his weight into his lap.

“Always,” Kaito affirmed, resting his head on top of Shinichi's. “There's a reason you're my most precious jewel~”

“Oi, oi,” Shinichi grumbled, but he felt warm and content, his emotions clear on how much he was enjoying Kaito's attention. Shinichi let it soak in for moment, and then it was back to business, reluctance leaking through. “So did you find anything on your end?”

Shinichi moved to get up, but Kaito stopped him. “A name. Gonna go check it out in a bit,” Kaito said, not letting go. He slipped his hand up his shirt and splayed it across his stomach, feeling him tense at his touch. Oh, that wouldn't do. “Going to spend the next few days in recon. If I can just get access—”

“Kaito,” Shinichi began. “What are you—”

“We can talk just as well like this, no?” Kaito said.

“But—” And had Kaito not been able to feel the swirl of emotions storming inside of Shinichi, he might have let it go, might not have pushed it. But Shinichi _needed_ touch, he _craved_ it. And he wasn't getting enough of it.

As Conan, he had to have gotten used to a higher level of touch. People tended to be freer in affection towards children. To go from the appearance of a child to a teenager meant losing that casual touch. Who really touched him now? Mouri-san, probably. Maybe that Osakan detective, when he was around.

It wasn't sexual. (Not at the moment, anyway; he certainly hadn't forgotten earlier.) Shinichi just wanted to be held. Kaito could do that, and gladly. Skin hunger did odd things to people, Kaito knew.

“Shhh,” Kaito whispered, “Let me.” He knew better than to acknowledge what Shinichi felt. Shinichi had a thing about needing to appear strong, unflappable, unconquerable, independent. But he didn’t have to be, not anymore. Not with him here. Not ever again.

Shinichi didn't answer, but Kaito felt him relax into his hold, going nearly boneless as the warmth spread from his hand up. A good as answer as any. “I have two possible points of entry; I have an in with the window washers of the building since I've worked as a temp with that company.”

“And the other?”

“They’re looking for a personal assistant,” Kaito said. Shinichi closed his eyes, snuggling into his shoulder.

“Personal assistant?” he asked.

“Mmm. I'd probably bring out Saitou-chan for this one, she's meek and mousy, awkward enough to be overlooked, and eager to please.” Kaito draped his other arm around him. “I think I'll go with her; it'll be easier to look around and get access to any paper files or closed network. I don't have many deep cover aliases that would pass the kind of extensive checks needed, and from there I can find a disguise to continue the charade.”

“But you do have some?” Shinichi asked.

“Oh yes.” Kaito heard an echo of the alias question. Only difference was now he trusted Shinichi without reservation, so he answered.

“Like Reika?”

“And now her new boyfriend Hiroto, yes.” Shinichi pulled away and made a face. “Something wrong, Hiro-kun?” Kaito said, smile mischievous.

“Don't call me that,” Shinichi groused. “Not until you have to.” He shifted, gesturing around the room. “Do you do this with all of your disguises?”

“No. Most of my guises are single serving or impersonations. Building someone up from scratch is hard, building someone who can stand up to scrutiny is harder. They take time to build. Neighbours, a residence, interaction, a history, the registry. I can only do so much at once.”

“Hiroto is you,” Shinichi realised.

“Bingo!” Kaito snapped his fingers.

“But our looks?”

“You’d be amazed how many people don’t look at the little details. In any case, I’ll see if I can’t work my way in today. Luckily, they schedule in the cloud. I’ve already slotted myself in for an interview.”

“Meanwhile, I’ll be fraternising with the locals,” Shinichi said, shifting so he was sitting beside Kaito, who tucked him to his side.

“Well, _somebody_ has to establish our cover. I should get there around six. Look besotted.” Kaito said, nuzzling him.

Shinichi looked down at his leather-clad form. “Right,” he said, voice doubtful.

“Hiroto is a man of deep feeling,” Kaito said seriously. "And take these.” He handed him a crumpled pack of cigarettes, Seven Stars brand.

“You don't smoke,” Shinichi said, even as he reached up and tucked them into the pocket of his coat, which was lying on the back of the sofa. That's what caught you out as Kogorou.”

“Nope! Neither do you! It's about image. Think of it as a prop!”

Shinichi grumbled something, but Kaito couldn't hear it. He wasn't broadcasting annoyance, though. In fact, if Kaito had to classify it at all, he'd call it contentment. He ran his fingers through Shinichi's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

He didn't think it was possible, but Shinichi melted even further, just like a cat, stretching and curving against his side. Well then. He filed that away for future reference. Shinichi in cat ears with a little bell collar. Kaito felt heat rise to his face. Feeding a little kitten Shinichi little kitten onigiri. _Ahh, so cute_ ~

“What in the world are you thinking about?” Shinichi asked him, reaching up and touching his face. So he sent the images through the link, and shrank back a bit, half expecting his irascible little kitten to have claws.

Shinichi just blinked and stared at him for a moment. Kaito scratched the side of his own cheek. “How do you even come up with these things?” Shinichi wondered, settling back against his side. Kaito's hand laced back through his hair, and he started petting him again.

“You're inspiring,” he told him honestly.

“First a nurse outfit, and then this,” he picked at his shirt, “and now cat ears,” Shinichi mused. “You really want to dress me up, don't you?”

Kaito blinked. He hadn't put any deep thought into his actions, but it was mostly true.

“You enjoy disguise. Makes sense,” Shinichi said. He stretched up, nuzzling his cheek against Kaito, just like a cat. He was doing it on purpose! “People like to share things that they like.” He pressed his lips against Kaito’s. Kaito parted his lips, and Shinichi dipped his tongue into his mouth, tasting him, before pulling away and murmuring, “You taste like candy.”

“I wonder why,” Kaito breathed, blood rushing to his face and other parts of him as Shinichi pushed him down against the arm of the sofa, careful not to aggravate his wounds. He was always thoughtful like that.

“So sweet,” Shinichi said, putting a hand on the side of his face. He leaned down for another kiss, but Kaito put the hard candy in his mouth instead. Shinichi pulled it out with another obscene pop, then traced Kaito’s lips with it, following the trail he left behind with his tongue. “Mmm, delicious.”

“You sound like you’re going to eat me,” Kaito said. “Should I be afraid?” he mocked a fearful shiver as Shinichi traced the contours of his face, thumbing his lip. The shiver was real, but it certainly wasn’t fearful. Ooh, but he liked it when Shinichi took command. He liked the unsure Shinichi too, but it looked like he was finally getting comfortable with himself.

“Only if you want to be,” Shinichi said, sliding over so more of his weight was on Kaito, lovely friction as Shinichi’s thigh slid between his legs. “I do owe you for the whole, ‘hands-off’ thing.”

“In my defence, I _was_ following your wishes,” Kaito said, as Shinichi divested him of his top. Shinichi acted more playful than he expected, too. Maybe Kaito had created a monster. That sounded like fun!

“You willing to testify that before the court?” Shinichi asked. “The judge?”

“That I took you because you wanted me to? I’d tell the world,” Kaito said. “You just have to say the word.”

“Perjury is a crime,” Shinichi said.

“I may be a criminal,” Kaito said. “But would I lie about this?” he pouted. Shinichi brought their faces together and lightly bit Kaito’s lower lip, then pulled away, just a bit.

“Is that a confession?” Shinichi said, noses almost touching.

“Are you going to put me in handcuffs if I say yes?” Kaito said, letting the sharp curl of heat he felt at the idea tingle up his spine. By the way Shinichi locked eyes with him, gaze hot, it was clear he felt it.

“And just what would you do if I did?”

“Probably something like this,” Kaito admitted, and pulled him down for another kiss, bringing his leg around Shinichi's hip and pulling him down on top of him before flipping them both and rocking back on his heels, palming Shinichi. He could feel Shinichi half hard though the leather, and he snaked his hand down and pulled him out, giving him a loose few strokes as Shinichi let out a cry.

“How do you _do_ that?” Shinichi panted as Kaito continued pumping him.

“Hmm,” Kaito pretended to think. “Practice. Natural skill.” He let go and stripped him of his shirt, fingertips following the lines of his ribs as he moved back down. He frowned, though. Had Shinichi had those bruises yesterday? He didn’t remember it as clearly as he probably should, but he didn’t think so. The day was a mess of fire, desperation, and pain, but he would have remembered it. He knew he’d taken some of his pain away, but these were darker than they appeared yesterday.

“Kaito?” Shinichi asked. “What is it?”

Kaito smiled, but he didn’t really feel it. He didn’t answer, instead he leaned down and kissed him again. His detective was sneaky, and played fast and loose with his health. Idiot. Kaito was going to have to watch for reckless self-sacrifice.

Shinichi surged up, knocking him back, reversing their positions again and pinning him down by the wrists. “Got you.”

Kaito smiled. “Oh, do you?” He slid down off the sofa to the plush rug, snagging Shinichi's trousers along the way, leaving him bare. He pulled him down to the floor with a startled yelp, rolling on top of him, laying on his chest.“Doesn't look like it!” His smile turned into a grin. He plucked the sweet from Shinichi's hand (how he'd held on to Kaito didn't know) and licked it, slow and lingering.

“You—” Shinichi said.

“Me,” Kaito said. “Now that we’ve got that established—” he slid up, dropped the lollipop so he could get leverage to kiss Shinichi again.

“Bastard,” Shinichi grumbled.

“My parents were happily married, thank you!” Kaito said, rubbing the tips of their noses together, nearly making Shinichi go cross-eyed. “So mean!” he said, laughing. Kaito felt warmth swell through him, deep, down to his very bones.

Shinichi was smiling, too. They were close, Shinichi looking into his eyes, almost searching them, expectant. Kaito stopped laughing, tilting his head to the side as, holding his gaze. “I love you,” Shinichi said quietly.

Kaito froze. “Shinichi—”

 _I love you_ , he said again through the link. Shinichi placed Kaito’s hand over his heart. “You feel it.” _I know you do._

 _Yeah. I do._ He felt his eyes burn. He told himself it was because he’d been staring too long. He licked his lips, then kissed him again, concentrating on the overwhelming amount of emotion he was feeling and pushed it towards Shinichi.

The connection opened wide, emotions going back and forth near instantaneous, building like a wave. Reciprocal feedback, only this time instead of desire and want, it was _love_ and _comfort_ and _home_ and _right_.

The words ‘I love you,’ though they gave some implication of the depth of feeling Kaito and Shinichi were experiencing at the moment, weren’t enough. It was heady, it was intense, it was _perfect_.

It was better than freefall, better than flying.

It should have felt dangerous, but it didn’t. It was _freedom_.

 _Show me how much?_ Kaito asked.

“ _Gladly_ ,” Shinichi said, rolling over and caging Kaito in his arms, friction against him in the most delicious way as their cocks lined up, his weight warm and nice and heavy. He kissed him again, and again, and again. Because maybe even though Kaito couldn’t bring himself to say it, he felt it. He felt it and he knew it and Shinichi knew it.

Shinichi traced Kaito's lip with the tip of his finger, and Kaito drew it into his mouth, sucking lightly. Shinichi followed it with another kiss, exploring, slow, lingering.

 _You're wearing too much, love,_ Shinichi said, his hands down Kaito's side. _I want to feel you._

Kaito felt more warmth than he ever thought possible suffuse through him at Shinichi's words. It felt...it felt right. Love.

Love.

And Kaito let himself fall.

 _Well, that_ is _a tragedy, isn't it?_ he hmmed. The skin contact felt amazing, and Kaito just basked in it for a long moment, sharp heat radiating outward from wherever they touched, an echoing feedback loop, before tugging his bottoms down with Shinichi's help, and finally meeting skin-to-skin.

The beautiful contact nearly made Kaito come immediately.

Shinichi buried his face in Kaito's neck, rocking against him. “ _Ah_ ,” he panted, breath hot against his neck.

“ _Mmm_ ,” Kaito gave an appreciative hum. How had there ever been anything before this, before him? Kaito kept his hands busy; he couldn't get enough of touching Shinichi, trailing his hands up and down with light touches, careful to avoid his shoulder.

Kaito drowned in the feeling; Shinichi's warmth on top of him, gliding against him, his own pleasure, Shinichi's pleasure, so many sensations all at once, nearly overwhelming him.

Shinichi's earnestness, his want, his _love_.

Long slow thrusts, soft languid kisses, Kaito could live in this moment forever, Shinichi's lips against his own, on his neck, the juncture of his shoulder, his tongue leaving a hot trail on the underside of his jaw, the taste of Shinichi's skin, his face in his hands.

Wonderful. Perfect.

One last roll of Shinichi's hips, and Kaito came with a cry, Shinichi following, seeming like almost an afterthought as it shook through them both, dulled by the warmth of whatever it was pulsing between them so _wide_ and _vast_ and _open_.

They just lay together in each other's arms, warm and comfortable, legs tangled, letting the connection flow, a little messy, but neither one of them paid it any mind.

Shinichi pressed his lips to Kaito's forehead. Kaito just basked in the glow. He could almost see his diamond fire dancing with blue-black shadows, and linked their hands together so the threads touched. “So what's next?” Shinichi said.

So comfortable. “I'd like to investigate the diamond they have on hand in person, but I won't be able to until after we figure out who's after us. That's too long to let a potential lead go. Any ideas?” Kaito said.

“My mother's in New York right now,” Shinichi said. “I trust her. She can do it.”

Kaito tensed in his arms. “Shinichi, are you sure?” He was hesitant to put his own mother in danger, much less Shinichi's.

A small bit of irritation. “That she’s in New York? Yeah. She posted it on social media. Something about a movie. I’ve been thinking about getting her to check it out anyway.”

“What? Really? Why?”

“She’s ordered a lot of custom pieces from them and knows one of their jewellers personally. It wouldn't be all that unusual for her to be there.”

“We don’t know if the attacks have anything to do with it,” Kaito said. “She could still be in danger.”

“We don’t not know if the attacks have anything to do with it,” Shinichi said. He reached around Kaito and grabbed blindly at the phone on Kaito’s other side. Kaito handed it over. “Besides, my mother can take care of herself.” He shuddered as if in remembrance, a trickle of long forgotten fear rising to the surface. “Believe me.”

Kaito dearly wanted to hear the story behind that.

-

“Everything looks great! Thank you, Luce,” Yukiko said as she finished reading the minutiae of the contract in front of her. Satisfied, she scrawled out her name in elegant script, putting a little heart over the I. Her phone began vibrating in her bag, but she ignored it until it went silent.

“Oh, Yukiko darling, it was absolutely my pleasure. So we can count on you and your husband’s support for the film adaptation?” Luce said, leaning forward, eyes bright. “I know you've mostly retired, but a cameo from the 'Night Baroness’ will go a long way.”

Yukiko nodded. “I think this will do wonders for his sales,” Yukiko said, smiling at the woman across the table and tucking the elegant silver-edged Montblanc pen in her handbag. “So long as you don't violate your end of the contract, of course.” Yukiko had seen time and again how Hollywood murdered some of the best stories. Differences between the mediums were a given; however, a good artist knew how to play that to their advantage.

As they both stood, Luce reached out and shook her hand. “Of course,” she said. “You know me better than that.” The woman waved the server waiting by the door over for their bill.

Yukiko's phone vibrated again. “Excuse me, I have to take this,” she said, taking it out of her purse. The producer nodded her understanding and left her alone in the private dining room.

What did Yuu-chan want now? She'd already flown out to New York City for him so he could avoid his editors, several of whom had flagged her down at the hotel. What else could he want? A glance at the screen told her that it was not, in fact, her husband, but a restricted caller. She let it ring twice more, then she picked up, wary. Not many had this number, being her personal phone. “Hello?” she said.

“Hello?” said a familiar voice.

She squealed in delight. “Hello~ Shin-chan! What an unexpected treat! You never call!”

“Mom?” Disbelief. “You actually picked up.”

Yukiko pouted. “Of course I picked up! I just knew it was a call from my Shin-chan!” she cooed.

“I’m seventeen! Do you really have to keep using that nickname?” Shinichi whined. Yukiko giggled on the inside. Teasing him was half the reason she did it, to be honest.

“You could be ninety and you’d still be my Shin-chan!” she chirped.

He groaned. Ahh, music to her ears. “Anyway, I need you to do something,” he said, his voice becoming serious and entering what Yukiko liked to call “case-voice.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Let me guess: it’s for a case.” His father was the same way when it came to his outrageous ideas.

“Yeah, kind of?” Shinichi prevaricated.

“Always when you want something!” She pouted again. “I knew a call from you was too good to be true!”

“It’s not like that!” Shinichi protested. Yukiko heard a dull thud, and then muffled words she couldn’t make out. “Give me a second!” he called out.

“Sometimes, you are too much like your father,” she added, shaking her head even though Shinichi couldn’t see it. Yuusaku too, had a bad habit of focusing so much on things he occasionally forgot the social niceties.

“Oh~ Is that so?” Shin-chan sounded oddly playful as he picked up again. “I’ll take that as a wonderful compliment~♥” he sing-songed. She heard more muffled noises from the background.

“Excuse me a moment, mother dearest~” Yukiko heard a scrape against the mouthpiece of the phone, like a hand was covering it, and something that sounded like arguing. “Oh yes, the favour. You still have that—” she heard more quiet noises. Then Shinichi made an ‘oof’ sound like he’d had the breath knocked out of him.

“Shinichi?”

“ _Ah!_ You know what, we should go shop _ping_ when you get back to Tokyo~” he sing-songed, punctuating his sentence with a breathless laugh.

“Shinichi, you _hate_ shopping.”

“I thought so,” Shinichi sounded smug. “Well, maybe one half of Shinichi does _,”_ Shinichi admitted, his voice getting a little high and strangled at the end, like he was in pain. Or something else. Yukiko raised her eyebrows. “The other half _adores_ it.” He let out a muffled groan.

What did that mean? “Shinichi, what's going on?”

“Nothing, mom~” he sang, and then his voice got quiet. “It's just, I haven't seen you much since you've moved to America, and I thought maybe we could do some mother/son bonding. It doesn't have to be shopping? We could go for lunch?” Though he sounded doubtful on that. “A day out? Women like that, don’t they?”

“Shin-chan, what's gotten into you?” Yukiko said, nearly tearing up. Her Shinichi was very independent, had been even as a child, one of the reasons he'd wanted to be left behind when the’d moved to America, but he was reaching out to her. “Who are you and what have you done with my child?”

Shinichi snickered. “Can't a son miss his beautiful young mother?” he said, sounding perfectly innocent.

“It's base flattery is what it is,” Yukiko said, sniffing dramatically and wiping imaginary tears from her eyes. “It's working. Now what do you want?”

“You still have that jeweller friend who works for Tiffany and Co.?”

“Oh, Carter-san? Yes, but why?”

“I want to see that the diamond on loan to Beika Natural History Museum made it back safely,” Shinichi said. “If you could confirm it with your own eyes, that’d be great.”

“I did hear it was a Kaitou Kid target.” Yukiko asked. “Why?”

“Just curiosity, I guess. You know how I am. Just can't leave well enough alone.” Another strange grunt. What was with him today?

“I suppose,” she said, acknowledging the truth. “I closed the Night Baron movie deal for your father early, so I have plenty of time.”

“Oh, a movie deal? Do you think—” Shinichi said, excitement in his voice.

“Do I think,” she began, encouraging him to speak. She wanted to hear what he thought. It seemed like she never heard him this excited over anything but a case.

But what he wanted to know, she never found out, because he dropped the matter entirely when he continued after another long pause. “Hey, hey,” he said, dragging out the words, sounding irritated. “When you find out, let me know at this number okay?” He gave her a new number that she memorised. “And try to make the call from a secure line.”

“Shinichi, what’s going on?”

“Just let me know?” he said instead of answering her question.

“Shinichi, tell me everything's okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Then he squeaked. He legitimately squeaked. “You know what?” he said, sounding strangled. “We should go driving when you get back,” he said.

“...Okay?” Now she knew something was up. What a non-sequitur.

The phone disconnected. Yukiko pulled it away from her ear, staring at it for the longest moment. He hung up on her. How odd. His new case...At least he called her this time, unlike the two months they'd gone without hearing anything when he shrunk. Still, she paged over to her contacts and hit dial.

“Carter? You wouldn't happen to have time to meet me, would you?”


	10. The Case

Saguru tapped his foot as he waited for clearance to the crime scene. Nothing unusual, being a civilian, even if he was a detective. He’d brought up his father in order to expedite it. He wasn't in the habit of name dropping, but if he couldn't reach Kudou and even Aoko didn't know where Kuroba was, he needed to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. If Kuroba were dead....Where did that leave him? His stomach churned, but he focused on his breathing. 

Once given the go ahead by the officers manning the cordon, he picked his way through the debris to reach the man in charge of the investigation, which was currently Inspector Megure. He was brought in as soon as they discovered a corpse, turning it from a criminal damage investigation to homicide. He and Inspector Nakamori were standing together, both of them quiet for once, surveying the scene. Megure wasn't an inspector he'd worked with frequently, and the man was eyeing him with distrust. Saguru was a little surprised at Nakamori's presence, though. Division Two generally worked high profile cases, though for the last ten or so years, Nakamori had headed the Kid task force, even during the phantom thief's long hiatus. Granted, he’d been the only member of it then and was often pulled to other cases.

“If I may ask, what happened?” Saguru asked as he approached. “Looks like a bomb.”

“Hmph. It was,” Inspector Nakamori confirmed. As he'd thought. “It was set in Aoko's classroom.” That explained Nakamori. He couldn’t see the man sitting still if he thought Aoko was in danger, even if ordered to.

“Class 3-B?” Saguru said. “Where, exactly? And when?”

“The wall closest to the hall, according to forensics. The resulting explosion caught some chemicals in the lab next to it and doubled the size of it, damaging the structural integrity of the building, causing it to collapse on itself,” Megure said. “It was close to five pm.”

Not long after Kuroba had sent the mail then. “Do you know who the target was? I heard someone died?” Saguru pressed, desperately hoping it wasn't Kuroba. Then again, Nakamori would surely be more upset had that been the case, given their long acquaintance.

“Hmm,” Megure answered. “Asou Keiji. The—”

“Second-year science teacher,” Saguru finished as the inspector gave him a flat stare for interrupting him. “Do you have any suspects? A shortlist of possible targets?”

Megure grunted and shook his head. “No suspects yet. The bomb components we found can be purchased at most hardware stores. Bomb team says that it was made of commercial parts by the debris they found, but due to the complexity of the device, a professional must have crafted it.”

“What kind of bomb was it?” Saguru asked.

“Time bomb with a remote detonator as backup,” Megure said. “That much I can tell you. As for targets, after talking with Nakamori, we have four possibilities: You, Saguru-kun, for your father and/or your detective work. Aoko-san for her father, and your classmate Fujie-kun, simply because we haven't been able to locate him. The last is Asou-san, simply because he was a fatality. It could have been deliberate.” Megure frowned. “We don't think he was the target, though. He'd just patented his hair-growth formula after extensive lab testing. Someone could be after him for the money, but I don't think so. He lived a quiet life and had no one who could be considered an enemy.”

“Not Kuroba?” Saguru asked, unable to hide the tension in his tone. He was definitely the target, though Saguru didn’t know whether it was for his resemblance to Kudou or his identity as Kid.

It made Nakamori straighten and narrow his eyes at Saguru. “I’d considered that, but Principal Konno said his mother called in a leave of absence for a family emergency,” Nakamori said. “I thought he'd be with you, or already gone out to meet Chikage-san.” A question was there, but it wasn’t one Saguru felt like answering.

He couldn’t answer it.

Saguru gave a short bow. “Thank you, Inspector Nakamori.”

The man called after him, but Saguru pretended not to hear as he met back up with Aoko and Akako-san.

"He's not dead," was all Saguru said.

Aoko hugged him. Not expecting it, Saguru almost fell over from the force of it, then just stood there stiffly, raising one hand to pat her awkwardly on the back when she didn't pull away immediately. She was warm against his chest. It was surprising, but nice.

"Thank you," she said. "He has to be at home, right? Come on, we need—" she said, pulling away. He felt a little colder, after.

He tried to pay attention as she continued to speak, but her words just washed over him as the Kuroba problem pulled Saguru into his own mind.

Kuroba wasn’t dead. Which was good, but it only made Aoko more determined to investigate his home. Not that he could blame her. She didn’t know about the assassination attempt on Kudou and that it was probably connected to the Ekoda High School Bombing, but maybe clues _could_ be found there.

Saguru followed behind Aoko and Akako on his way to Kuroba’s house. Their destination gave him mixed feelings. It wasn't so much about finding evidence he was the Kaitou Kid, not anymore. It hadn't been for a long time. Not since Nightmare, since Spider. He'd hoped for Kid's victory against Chat Noir and Kaitou Corbeau, and he’d felt relieved when he'd succeeded, though he would never admit it publicly.

That he couldn’t get hold of him or Kudou was...disconcerting. His conversation with the police replayed through his mind as he followed the girls, but soon his thoughts drifted to the day in general, how odd it had been.

Remembering the brilliant crimson of the sun through the clouds in the early morning still unsettled Saguru, throwing the old mariner’s adage to the forefront of his mind.

A storm was coming.

It wasn't just the red sunrise that had him uneasy. His teacup, made of fine bone china, had cracked down the middle as Baaya had poured him his morning tea, ruining the newspaper and forcing him to change. His ablutions had ended with him somehow losing a button down the drain. Minor nuisances at best, but when added together, they left him with a distinct feeling of apprehension.

Watson had been restless in the mews when he had gone to exercise her, fluffing her wings, making soft _kweks_ , and attempting to preen him, clingy and fragile, acting like she had when she was an eyas. It wasn't like her.

On his walk to school, he'd tripped over a crack in the pavement and had a black cat twine itself around his legs. Again, mere superstition, but he couldn't help the suspicion beginning to grow in his mind, spurred on by Kuroba's words and Koizumi’s odd behaviour.

Then he’d arrived at the school to find it a charred mess. No, Saguru didn't believe in magic or the supernatural. But between Koizumi and Kuroba, he was starting to wonder. More than wonder. He watched Akako, the smooth sway of her hips as she walked, and she turned, meeting his eyes for a moment, secretive smile on her face. Saguru looked away, feeling a blush rise to his face at having been caught staring. She turned back to her conversation with Aoko after letting out a little laugh.

Maybe it had been a mistake not to tell the Inspectors that no one had heard from Kuroba since the bombing. It might make one suspicious, but not for a moment did Saguru believe Kuroba had set it. No, coupled with his talk with Kudou, it was far more likely Kuroba was the target for his work as Kaitou Kid, or they had mixed up the two in an attempt to kill Kudou, a hypothesis which the Inspectors had confirmed with the location being the classroom they all shared. ‘You should know better than anyone. They _are_ the police,’ Kudou had said, and so Saguru had kept uncharacteristically silent, the memory of Kudou covered in blood in the forefront of his mind. He trusted the two Inspectors, but it had hardly been a private setting, and anyone could have heard. He didn't want to potentially put them in more danger.

Still, something about the heist on Saturday...he couldn’t put his finger on it. Why had Kudou been there? Especially if he and Kid were working together, and he hadn’t been to one since the Clock Tower heist before Saguru’s arrival? Something was off.

He needed a distraction, so when Aoko had asked him to come with her, he’d readily agreed.  The bombed out school, much as he disliked to think about it, was outside his ability to help, and better left to the police. He could, however, ease Aoko’s mind simply by accompanying her, and so he did.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t realised they’d stopped. The house in front of them must be Kuroba’s. It was fairly nondescript house in an upper middle-class neighbourhood. Aoko let them in. They were known to be childhood friends. It wasn’t unusual for her to have his key.

“I’m home,” Aoko said quietly to the dark room. The fact there was no answering call of “Welcome back,” seemed to wear on Aoko, and she visibly wilted, wringing her hands.

Saguru observed everything with a keen eye as he walked inside. Two sets of men’s uniform shoes in the entryway. All the guest slippers were still there, though. He took his own shoes off, leaving them next to Akako’s. “Do you recognise those?” he asked Aoko, who had walked deeper into the house.

“No. You don’t think—” she began, and then she let out an unconscious breath. Saguru hurried over, then he saw what made her gasp.

Blood. Blood and the tattered, stained remains of Kuroba’s uniform jacket on a low table by the sofa in the living area, next to an open first aid—no, EMT kit. Soiled gauze, latex gloves turned inside out, a discarded needle with a bit of thread. A large piece of glass marred with dried blood, next to many other jagged pieces of the same. Judging from his uniform remnants, Kuroba had been injured enough to need stitches, but he hadn’t gone to a hospital. A familiar blazer lay across the back of the sofa, next to a carelessly discarded tie. It was the Teitan uniform. Kudou _was_ here—or rather, had been here at one point.

They hadn’t cleaned up after themselves either. Saguru let out an explosion of breath. That was telling. What had them in such a hurry?

Akako reached over and put her hand on Aoko’s shoulder. “He's alive, Aoko-chan,” Akako reminded her. “Hakuba told you the body wasn’t his. He didn’t die.”

“But he’s hurt,” she sniffed, so Akako pulled a tearful Aoko to her shoulder. Saguru shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know if he’s okay.”

“He is,” Saguru found himself saying, the tremulous smile she gave him made relief run through him. He didn’t like to see her in pain. “You know him. He’s stubborn.”

She wiped her eyes. “He is, isn’t he?” she said with a little giggle. “But it's weird. Wouldn't he have come running if he was here? ”

“It does seem like he and Kudou are still here, but,” Saguru said, gesturing down the hall and up the stairs. Things had been knocked down and just left there. It told a tale, all right, and not one of burglary.

“A lot of pain,” Akako murmured. “But something else is stronger,” she said, trailing her hand down the wall, following the path of destruction, dodging a turned over plant, up the stairs and into a open bedroom. “It’s very potent. The energy here—relief, love, respect, mixed with a very primal reaction to stress and fear.” Akako mused out loud.

Yes. That's what he’d thought, too.

“Such strong emotional power.” She breathed in deep, let out a satisfied noise, and formed a fist slowly. Saguru swore he saw her hand glowing. He blinked, and then it was gone. Had it been a trick of the light? But Kuroba talked so seriously about magic...Even though he was known as a prankster, his words had the ring of truth. And his protectiveness...

Aoko followed behind him, her face colouring as soon as she saw the rumpled sheets.

“If he's well enough for that, I dare say he will live,” Akako said, tone drier than the desert.

“So it seems,” Saguru agreed.

The red on Aoko-kun's face deepened. She squeaked something about doves and left the room. 

“Well, he isn't here,” Saguru said, casting his eyes about the room. They landed on a large full-body portrait of a magician in a dark suit, looking much like Kuroba himself. It didn't really fit the décor of the rest of the house, and it had a thick canvas. Saguru narrowed his eyes. He walked over and ran his hand down the frame, tugging at it, then pushing. Hmm. It was strangely affixed to the wall and he couldn’t shift it. He knocked on the wall, but there wasn't a hollow sound. Same for the portrait.

“What are you doing?” Akako asked from right next to him, closer than he thought she would be. He nearly jumped out of his skin. Yes, Kuroba was definitely right to be wary of her.

“Nothing,” Saguru denied quickly, turning from the wall. She shot him a knowing look.

Feeling like a scolded child, he reluctantly turned his attention the rest of the room, finding a small satchel next to the bed. It didn’t look like anything he’d seen Kuroba use. He rummaged through it. It had schoolwork in it and a copy of _The Valley of Fear_ , but not much of anything else. Wait. An inside pouch had a Teitan student ID. Kudou’s face smirked up at him. Kudou had bank cards, credit cards, a library card tucked in there. No cash or mobile phone, but why leave the rest behind? They’d seen no presence of anyone else in the house, yet these were fairly important to manoeuvre through society with. Sure, they could use Kuroba’s, but Saguru didn’t think Kudou was the type. 

Saguru tapped his chin. No, he’d gone underground again and taken Kuroba with him.  And probably hadn’t thought anyone would come back to Kuroba’s house to investigate, what with the “family emergency” excuse. Which meant Ms. Kuroba was probably in on the deception as well, though Kid could mimic voices almost perfectly and could have called himself out. Saguru had found clues confirming his hypothesis, but not the kind that would assist Aoko in locating him. Or them, rather.

And about that heist on Saturday? Why was Kudou there? Because both of them were targets?

Saguru rubbed at his chin. Why did Kid steal? And why did Kudou condone it, himself a purveyor of justice? The eternal question of motive. They both were targets; that was the place to begin. Kudou as himself and Kuroba as Kid. They thought Kudou was dead until recently, which could explain why Kuroba was never attacked outside of Kid heists until now, if it was for the resemblance. Especially if they'd thought Kudou might have been living as Kuroba under an assumed name and wanted loose ends tied. 

And Kid himself: A man who was for all intents and purposes masked could draw out danger without repercussions to friends and family. Kuroba made himself a target under an alias to protect his, that was obvious, but why theft? Surely, there were other ways to draw their attention.  Unless... Saguru started, head jerking up. Kid's heists guaranteed a strong police presence and brought public attention to whatever he was after, namely jewels. Security always increased after a Kid heist. And if he didn’t trust the police, but did trust Nakamori like a father, if the mysterious gunmen were drawn to the publicised heists as a reliable location to take down their target, what better way than to...

“My God,” Saguru whispered. Kuroba really did have everyone dancing to his tune. They were public spectacles, and he almost always returned the stolen object in the condition it was taken in.

If Kid had another heist, he had to be there. No matter what. He needed answers.

“They’re not here,” Aoko said, interrupting his thoughts. “I've searched everywhere. Maybe try the Blue Parrot next?”

-

 _I’ve just hit the mother lode,_ Kaito thought, excitement bubbling across the link. _Two days. The police have been trying for two months._

Shinichi walked down the street, hands in his pockets. Shinichi could just picture that delicious curve of Kaito’s lip, his self-satisfied look, the one that reminded him of the cat getting into the cream. It didn’t stop the soft feeling that welled up, though he didn't let it show on his face.

 _Yeah. Pesky things, warrants._ Shinichi said, wry. _Imagine if you needed them for arrest or search and seizure._

The past two days he’d been getting to know the area and the neighbours, the ins and outs, establishing himself. Not exactly making friends because “Hiroto” was a taciturn young man and not much one for politeness or social pleasantries, but then again, he didn't have to be. That was the point. Even though the pavement was crowded, people still moved out of Shinichi’s way, parting around him like water, flowing seamlessly back together once he’d passed by. He frowned. Though he wasn't actively trying to glare, he knew his pensive expression was often taken as such. Kaito thought of everything, it seemed.

So different from the syrupy earnestness of Conan.

 _You're so difficult to impress!_ Shinichi felt the pout _._ _They had their chance._

 _I suppose that's true,_ Shinichi said, feigning nonchalance, though inside he was impressed. Just a little bit. Even though he shouldn't be.

At the interview, Kaito had managed to charm an upper level manager with his ability to problem solve. (Also known as he'd ruined his skirt suit in a fight with a broken copier and exploding toner. He’d later sworn he had nothing to do with breaking it.) He'd been hired on the spot for fixing it by the harried, grateful manager. Kaito had been working as Saitou Emi at the D— main office for two days now.

Shinichi hated it. Emi during the day, only to fall into Reika as easily as breathing during the evening. Kaito didn’t break character at all. Not once.

Shinichi kind of missed him. He hadn't realised how much his personality had shown through as Kid. Outside of their shared thoughts, the only time Kaito was himself was at night, just before bed. When it was just the two of them. Drowsy bedtime kisses before sleeping together. Not sex. Actually sleeping, legs tangled, bodies close.

It wasn't exactly domesticity; how could it be? Neither one of them had let themselves forget just what they were up against. Constantly scanning for eyes, searching for anything suspicious, looking for tails. Always on guard. But despite all that, it was surprisingly nice.

 _I’ll never understand why people keep this thorough of a record of illegal dealings,_ Kaito said.

 _The beauty of bureaucracy?_ Shinichi offered. _That's why they call it organised crime. It’s a business. Even criminals need to get paid.  
_

He reached his destination and walked inside. _The Moonlite Lounge_ was a piano bar tucked down the stairs of a busy street. The inside was dimly lit but modern, most of the light coming from hanging square light fixtures that dangled over the room. A varnished oak bar stood on one wall, offset by a baby grand in the opposite corner on a little raised dais. Neon lights of various card suits and alcohol brands lit the walls, flickering brightly, and posters of various musicians and venues hung on the wall, some signed and framed, some not. On a chalkboard next to the bar: Next show, 20:00 Friday. Tonight. Shinichi couldn’t wait.

_Odd._

Shinichi paused in his perusal of the décor. _Yes?_

 _Found their books._ Growing incredulity and a hint of stress, smothered by urgency and hot anger. _It's all here._ _Smuggling, theft, blackmail, money laundering, sex trafficking, drug running, expenses of a place just labeled the Bar. All signed off by an A. Takano, written in hiragana._

Shinichi switched his attention from the setting to the people as Kaito kept up his commentary, taking it all in at a glance. It wasn't very busy, not yet, but it was hardly empty. A few people out on the floor dancing to something soft and jazzy, several more at the bar, but a stocky man in a black suit gesticulating wildly at a woman in a white blouse and pencil skirt immediately caught his attention. He seemed vibrant, his dark hair slicked back and his voice booming. The woman was petite and lightly made up, her brown hair long and unbound, wearing an expensive watch. He scanned them; definitely a couple by their body language, what with her active listening and her hand halfway up his thigh. He had a flushed face, likely in the earliest state of intoxication.

Two more people at the bar stood out to him. A man in a Hanshin Tigers cap and cloth moto jacket and a tired woman in a pantsuit, seated separately, both alone, but casting looks at the couple at different times: the man at Miss Handsy and the woman at Mr. Loudmouth.

Clearly, neither were happy the couple was a couple. The girlfriend met tiger man’s eyes, but looked away quickly, while his gaze lingered, her posture turning tense and uncomfortable, shoulders hunched in and back slumped. She touched her stomach almost possessively.

There was a story there, and one Shinichi didn't think he would like.

 _Shit. That's a lot._ Kaito said. _A lot. Assassinations, terrorism. Militant group funding. This isn't even all of it. This is mostly an index. It’s...it’s in code, extremely complex, but I can parse some of it. Coordinates, drop locations. Lists of businesses and projects and people._

From where he was sitting, he could see that tiger man had an expensive-looking camera; an older kind that used film. Not the digital ones that were practically ubiquitous these days.

The tired woman had a massive handbag that looked more like a tote. But her gaze was more wistful than anything else, and filled with something that looked almost like regret. Ex-lovers, he guessed, though it was weird both exes of the couple were here. They must be relatively new partners.

If he'd been here as himself, he might have entertained himself by deducing the wherefores, but he forced himself to ignore it. Yamamoto Hiroto was not Kudou Shinichi. He wasn't even Edogawa Conan. He had zero interest in such things. The point was to establish himself as a local fixture in a variety of places. At least he had more reason to be here than most of the other places he’d visited.

_Everything leads back to this A. Takano. Like I said, odd. I mean I found this access point in a break room but seriously there's no reason the police shouldn't have this already._

_Surely there's more to it._ Most of the police detectives he worked with were fairly competent, Yamamura aside. Granted, he did work mostly with Division One, and the takedown had involved most of Tokyo Metropolitan HQ, not just homicide.

 _Well, it_ is _in a hidden room behind a wall. A set of servers, a few computers, screens to the door._ Amusement, tinged with a little frustration. _But it’s so obvious!_ he let out a mental huff. _The space didn't add up. Did they even look? Downloading the most important information to an external now._

Shinichi ignored the other patrons, sat down at the bar, and pulled out a cigarette. Hopefully he wouldn't have to smoke the thing. ‘It's about image,’ Kaito had coached. Somehow, Kaito’d found him a crumpled pack with about half left, giving it a strange sort of authenticity.  Shinichi suspected light fingers, but figured he was better off not knowing. Seven Stars brand. Like the Pleiades. Seven Sisters, Seven Stars, Seven Crows. Seven. Seven Gods of Fortune. Seventh day of the seventh month—twinkling Orihime in the constellation Lyra...everything was seven. Seven mythological figures in the jewel’s riddle. He didn't even know where to begin with that particular puzzle.

Prometheus was the first and the story Shinichi was most familiar with, so he was as good a place to start as any. He created man, for one. Had several altercations with Zeus, culminating in stealing fire from Mount Olympus to give to his creation. In response, Zeus chained him down for eternity, and an eagle ate his liver every day, only for it to regrow every night and the cycle to begin again.

The jewel was something a mortal wasn't meant to have, maybe? No, that wasn't it. Seven figures had to align. Not a reference to the alignment of planets, the Seven Luminaries of antiquity: the sun, moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn? No, full planetary syzygy was impossible, even if one discounted the fact that only five of them were planets in the modern sense, and the gods were wrong anyway. Helios, maybe, for the sun. Then Gaia fit into it as a substitute for Earth, maybe? No. Earth wasn’t part of the seven classical planets.

If it wasn't a reference to that, or a reference to the constellations it showed, then what was it referring to?

And then there was Prometheus’s connection to Pandora in the legends. The woman herself an innocent but created by Hephaestus and Athena at the direction of Zeus. The brother of Prometheus, Epimetheus, took her for a wife at Zeus's behest. It was at their joining Pandora was given the jar containing all evils as a wedding gift from a disguised Zeus.

Pandora and her gift were meant to be a punishment. Indirect revenge on Prometheus and his creation.

The only thing left inside the jar at the end was hope.

The jewel didn't glow red, but blue. Not immortality, but information. It wasn't Pandora. But it was connected somehow. Shinichi didn’t believe in coincidence.

What did it all mean? What was the connection?

It didn't help to keep thinking in circles. He glared down at his cigarette. ‘Think of it as a prop,’ Kaito had said. Yeah, like it was that easy. Shinichi knew that a smoker who didn't smoke was suspicious.

Plus, this outfit was hot in the warmth of the room. He picked at the fabric, a club suit this time, the green clover taking up half the shirt. He’d blushed a little, putting it on. Kaito's look had certainly been knowing. It was as if Kaito was saying 'mine’ by the shirt alone, what with the pun on clover and Kuroba.

The leather coat and trousers felt sticky like they were melting to his skin. He froze outside in the cool wind and practically melted inside. How people wore things like this on a regular basis he had no idea. Also, the wig itched and he was sweating underneath it. He refrained from picking at it by sheer force of will, and instead kept glaring at his cigarette, thoughts turning back to Kaito.

 _How did you know where to look?_ Shinichi had to ask, trying to distract himself from the riddle and his discomfort.

_Talked to people. This part of the building is known to be a discreet place for ah, relations, as it were, amongst other things. Figured it was a rumour meant to discourage the nosy. I was right._

“Need a light?” The bartender asked, holding out a sleek metal lighter and startling Shinichi from his mental conversation. He was a tall man, easily 180 centimetres, and very muscular with broad shoulders. He was dressed in a rather nice evening shirt with bowtie and waistcoat and apron, but his hair was styled in spikes.

Shinichi scowled, glaring at the stick between his fingers. “No.”

“Ah,” the bartender said, reaching for the tap next to Shinichi and filling a glass for the boisterous, stocky man talking animatedly to his female companion with wild gestures. He had a lit cigar in his hand. He must have lit it while Shinichi was distracted; it wasn't burned down very far. From here, it looked high quality, too. The man probably had money.

“And I’m telling you, Hideki said, 'You can't get that all down in one go?’ and I said, 'I bet I can,’ the man said, taking a drag of the cigar, smoke blowing from his nose.  “‘I never turn down a challenge—’” Something about that was wrong. What was it?

“What happened next?” said his girlfriend. She was still listening to his every word, enraptured, hand moving ever higher. Dangerously high.

It made Shinichi a little uncomfortable. Not that he could say anything. He remembered a time he would have baulked at doing the same, but all that flew out the door with Kaito. First Hakuba and then Ran. Not to mention that phone conversation with his mother. Kaito was just so relaxed about it. Open. Non-judgemental about anything and everything Shinichi did and wanted to try. Clear with his own desires. But he never pressured him, never pushed him further than he was willing to go. It made it so easy to respond.

Shinichi started as what was wrong finally hit him. Was the man actually inhaling the cigar smoke? Shinichi wasn’t a smoker, but Holmes _had_ written a treatise on cigar ash, so Shinichi had done a little research. Cigars were thicker than cigarettes and most, especially the high quality, hand-rolled ones, weren’t filtered or treated with chemicals, and so the smoke tended to be hotter. The whole point was to taste it, to sip the flavour, to hold the smoke in the mouth. It wasn’t unheard of, but inhaling the smoke just wasn’t done. It distracted from the taste.

 _Well, I thought this was too easy,_ Kaito thought, sounding amused, but Shinichi felt his stress ratchet up, nervous tension curling around his stomach. The duality was very Kaito, so used to hiding how he felt.

Shinichi instantly became alert. _What is it?_

_Just their cyber guard dogs. Tricksy things, but nothing I can't handle._

Either way, Shinichi backed off. He was sure he'd only distract him from the delicate work.

The bartender headed back Shinichi's way, only to be called to the end of the bar by the tired-looking woman. She set her large purse on the bartop and asked for a Pink Lady, tucking the edge of what looked like a thin white coat inside the handbag alongside a glint of silver. Lab coat? Hmm. Doctor, then. A scientist would probably not have the bags under their eyes, and the metal object looked like the end of a stethoscope. She sent a glare at cigar man as he let out another loud roar of laughter, seemingly having finished his tale. Gin and grenadine. The bartender mixed it up with the ease of one who'd done it a thousand times. Shinichi fought to keep his scowl from deepening into a grimace at the reminder of the black org member, but he didn't quite manage it. Ugh. If his time as Conan had taught him anything, he should leave the acting to his mother.

“Not a fan?” the bartender asked, having misread his expression, coming back to him, gesturing to the hand with the cigarette in it.

“No,” Shinichi grunted. “Quitting.” Like he’d ever even started. Ugh, this was such a stupid idea. How had he let Kaito convince him to do this? Oh, Shinichi knew, mind falling back to them rocking together, the slide of skin-on-skin. He scoffed at himself mentally, small smile ghosting across his face at the thought of him.

“Girlfriend?” the bartender said. The note in his voice made him look up. The bartender gave him a knowing smile, his look one of compassion and understanding.

Excellent excuse. Shinichi blinked at the simplicity of the solution. “Yeah.”

The bartender rolled up his sleeve, showing a nicotine patch. He tapped it and gave Shinichi a wink. “Same thing happened to me. Women, right? My Ami, she's something else.”

“Yeah,” Shinichi said again, unable to stop his smile from growing. “She'd kill me.”

“I'd wondered,” the bartender admitted. He held out his hand. “Yoshio.”

Shinichi took it, deciding to be just as familiar. It wasn't out of character. “Hiro.”

“Can I get you anything?”

It took him a moment to decide. “Scotch on ice.” He'd had enough of American whiskey. Though Scotch on ice had its own unpleasant connotations, seeing as how Scotch _was_ on ice. Hmm. It was still better than a handful of other drinks he could have mentioned. Less personal. Even beer reminded him far too much of Kogorou.

A thread of unease not his own ran through him, but it was quickly quieted. Shinichi tried not to let it affect him. Surely Kaito would let him know if he'd been compromised downloading the information.

“Coming right up,”  Yoshio said, pulling a lowball from behind the bar and filling it with ice, pouring amber liquid over it. “Anyway, I haven't seen your face around before. You just move?”

“Something like that. Not really my kind of place,” he gestured around the dimly-lit bar, looking pointedly at the grand piano. It was a little more upscale than most of the bars he'd seen in the area, and catered to those older. Shinichi estimated that even considering the age of his disguise—22—he was one of the youngest people here. Also, everyone was dressed a lot better than he was, even the bartender in his waistcoat. He felt out of place, but it was in Hiroto's character to ignore it, so he did.

Yoshio snorted. “No kidding. There’s plenty of clubs in this district. What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for someone.” Shinichi gave the bartender a considering look. “I thought the therapist bartender thing was a myth.”

Yoshio held his hands up. “You just looked like you needed to talk to someone, that's all.”

Shinichi snorted.

“I'm serious. People don't go to places like this when they're content. Places like this are hunting grounds for peace.”

“Right,” Shinichi said sceptically. “And that's why you're here, too,” he asked, leading him a little. Hmm. It seemed old habits really did die hard.

Yoshio scratched the back of his neck. “In part, yeah. My dad owns a mining and manufacturing company, wants me to take over the family business now that he’s getting older.”

“But that’s not what you want,” Shinichi observed. Easy enough deduction to make.

“No, not at all,” he said. “It might be nice to run my own bar. This one’s my uncle’s, and he and my father never really got along. He went behind my father’s back to hire me, and I don’t think he’s forgiven either one of us for it.”

Shinichi let the corner of his mouth twist. “What?” Yoshio said.

“Family should be...not that,” Shinichi said rather eloquently.  Not for the first time he felt grateful for his parents. Though they were rather unorthodox, they still respected his wants. Mostly. They let him stay with Ran, anyway.

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes flickering to cigar man. Interesting. Shinichi wondered if they were related somehow. They did share key facial features.

He tilted his glass so it looked like he took a sip as the man called Yoshi over for a refill for his beer.  No need to leave DNA behind. He put it down, running his gloved finger over the top. The smoky haze from the tobacco gave the bar an otherworldly look. Down the stairs and into the Underworld, Shinichi thought, and then frowned. Hades wasn't on the jewel’s list, either.

Shinichi watched Yoshio's interactions with the man as he brought him another drink. They seemed amicable enough, more than professional politeness. They were related somehow. Probably cousins.

“Thanks again, Yoshi,” the loud man said in a soft voice.

“I've told you time and again that your money's no good here, Dai.” The words sounded harsh, but the bartender said it with a smile.

Dai took a sip of his drink and linked hands with what was presumably his girlfriend, whispering in her ear. Her eyes widened and she giggled.

Less than a minute later, Dai started panting, clutching at his heart. He stood, staggering around, one hand clutching his chest.

Shinichi stood as well, rushing over to him, forcing him to sit back down. Heart attack? No, his face was red, too red, as if he weren't getting enough oxygen. Hypoxia. Asthmatic? Brought on by the cigar? He was sweating heavily.

“Does your family have a history of asthma?” Shinichi barked. Dai couldn't answer. “Anything pulmonary?” he directed his question at the woman.

“N-no?” the woman said. “I don’t know,” she bit her lip.

“No,” Yoshio said, more firmly. “No one in our family does.” So he’d been right about the relation.

“Call an ambulance!” Not alcohol poisoning, he was too alert for that, speech not slurred nearly enough, onset too quick. But poisoning all the same. Shinichi knew these symptoms. “Dai,” Shinichi said, voice gentle, grabbing his wrist. Dai’s pulse thundered in his veins, far, far too fast. “I need you to sit down and stay with me. I think you've been poisoned.”

“I k-know,” the man wheezed. “Too good,” he sputtered. “T-to be true.” His face was turning reddish-purple, spittle frothing.

“What was?” Shinichi pressed. “You know a motive?”

“ _Them_ ,” he whispered, then he sicked up. He looked a little better, but still out of it. Dai whispered something Shinichi didn't catch. Then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell, narrowly missing his mess.

“Fuck!” he made himself swear to stay in character as Dai began convulsing, though it wasn't far from how he actually felt. He ran through probable causes in his mind. _Deoxygenated blood. But it's not strychnine, the convulsions would have begun sooner._ That narrowed down his options considerably. If one discounted certain mycotoxins and strychnine that left—

 _Cyanide,_ Shinichi thought grimly. _By the time frame_ , _it was probably absorbed through the skin. Too slow for inhalation, too quick for ingestion. Unless—_

 _Shinichi?_ Kaito said. _That sounds an awful lot like—_

_Poisoning. At the bar. Right in front of me._

_Only you, Great Detective._

_You're telling me?_ Shinichi said, thought soaked in dark humour.

 _Shinichi, you have to leave. You can't get wrapped up in this case,_ Kaito urged him.

Also known as Hiro couldn't be here. Hiro couldn't get wrapped up in the case.

_It’ll be too suspicious if you stay. They’re going to want names, ID, faces. If they fingerprint you, we’re done for._

“Fuck!” Shinichi said again as Dai shook one more time, then lay still. _I can’t leave. It would look too suspicious if I tried to leave now. I think he's dead._ That familiar bitter feeling of failure welled up. “Stupid old man!” he punched the floor. He wasn't acting.

 _There’s nothing for it, then._ Kaito felt...something. Shinichi wasn't sure in what. His voice felt even, but there was a surge of something. Ghost-like. On the edge of his consciousness. _I'll be there as soon as I can get away. Be careful._

Shinichi held his hand to his neck, unable to feel Dai’s pulse. “Someone call the police!” he yelled.

He really was too late. He tightened his fists at his side, knuckles turning white.

Shinichi's mind whirred through the evidence. It took about fifteen to thirty minutes for cyanide to kill by absorption. Inhalation killed quicker, from about two to ten minutes, ingesting fifteen minutes up to four hours depending on the dose and how full the stomach was. He hadn't been affected and neither had Miss Handsy or anyone else in the bar, so it had to be localised somehow. As the girlfriend, she'd be the prime suspect. She and Yoshi the bartender since he knew Dai. The photographer with the camera and the doctor from the fact they’d kept casting glances at the couple.  Shinichi himself was suspicious, as much as he wanted to deny it.

Looking around the scene, his eyes landed on the dying stub of a cigar, the doctor trying to pick it up. It hit him; only a hunch, but cyanide salts deliberately planted in the cigar could burn and form hydrogen cyanide. Happened in house fires all the time. It would be enough to kill. The thin membranes in the mouth would help absorption. But cigars weren’t meant to be inhaled, and the smoke didn’t affect anyone else. If Dai liked to inhale cigar smoke and the culprit knew it would kill him quicker…

The timing fit.

“Don't,” he said, voice low, a warning. Pitching it louder, he said, “Nobody leave. Yoshio, make sure no one leaves until the police get here.”

The bartender nodded. “You heard him,” his voice wavered as he spoke though, and he kept glancing at the prone form of Dai. His eyes were glassy like he was holding back tears. It didn’t mean anything. He wouldn’t be the first remorseful killer Shinichi had seen, nor the first person to commit parricide, but the doctor was first in his personal list of suspects now. He was almost certain the cigar was the murder weapon. Yoshio moved towards the door, cutting off the photographer who’d been trying to get outside, getting the two bouncers to help him keep peace.

Shinichi narrowed his eyes.

“Because one of us is your next victim?” the woman snapped.

“No, idiot. Because it's a crime scene,” he said, voice flat.

“Familiar with those, are you?” the photographer said.

You have no idea, Shinichi thought to himself.

He rocked back against the bar, leaning against it, putting his head in his hands. Flames roared in his ears, the harmony to a discordant piano melody. The smell of burning flesh, heat licking his skin. He'd failed again. Someone else had died in front of him. Had been poisoned in front of him because he hadn't been able to catch it in time. If he had only taken a moment to look into his suspicions earlier...He took a deep breath, tucked it all inside. This wasn’t his fault, even if sometimes it was hard to remember.

It didn’t make it any easier.

An arm flashing in the corner of his eye. “Don't touch that!” Shinichi said. Damned fool woman was reaching for it again. “It's evidence. Unless you have something you're trying to hide?”

“I don't.”

“Then leave it for the police.”

The atmosphere of the bar was tense, even after the EMTs arrived, the bouncers letting them in. 

They declared Dai dead on arrival.

“Cause of death, undetermined at this time,” the first EMT said. “Potentially cardiac arrest.”

“Chemical asphyxia,” Shinichi said. “Cyanide poisoning. He’s frothed at the mouth. Look at his eyes. They'll be bright.”

“I'm Doctor Yamaguchi,” said the woman, shooting Shinichi a glare. “Not some punk. Let me be the judge of that.”

“The police are on their way,” Shinichi said, glaring right back. He burned with the need to put her in her place, but he couldn't. Not as Hiro. “I'd wait for them. She's been after the evidence.” Wouldn't be the first time a medical professional had used his reliance on them to manipulate the case either. He couldn't even be happy he'd been right about her profession.

He grimaced. Everything was reminding him of the Moonlight case today, even the name of the damn bar. The crooning singer playing through the speakers did not match the mood at all.

“With all due respect, madam, I agree with the boy.” Shinichi twitched at the appellation. ”The cause of death is undetermined, but it doesn’t look natural,” said the second EMT. “An unbiased party would be better.”

“And how do you know that?” Doctor Yamaguchi said. “Unless you planted it yourself?”

Shinichi stared, stunned at the stupid. “Why in the hell would I do that?”

“I’ve never seen you before, and it would be like one of you people to poison him just for kicks!”

“‘You people,’” Shinichi said, voice as dry as he could make it. “Who, musicians?”

Yamaguchi opened her mouth to respond again when two policemen made their way to the bar interrupting her. They were just patrolmen, not police detectives. Two more stood at the entrance. Shinichi frowned. He didn’t recognise either one of them. Where was Takagi? Satou? Chiba? The Inspectors Megure and Shiratori? Not that he’d like them here when there was a possibility of uncovering him, but he knew them. He trusted them. And as the leader of the two looked around the bar, his eyes moving from Dai to Shinichi and wrinkling his nose, they also didn’t just jump to conclusions either without taking in all of the evidence first.

Great. More complications. This wasn't going to be pleasant. Could they be working for the Organisation?

He thought about it for a second. Nah. Too incompetent.

Still, he had to give it to him. One by one, the patrolman asked some basic questions and cleared the fifteen or so others and sent them to the tables as another patrolman taped it off. leaving just him, Doctor Yamaguchi, the Photographer, Yoshio, and Handsy Girlfriend.

Much to Shinichi's chagrin, he went right to interrogating him. Shinichi had to fight not to roll his eyes.

“So, everyone says they've never seen you before. What's your name?” he said in not a very nice tone.

“Yamamoto Hiroto,” Shinichi said, keeping his voice clipped. “Who’re you?”

“What are you doing here, Yamamoto?” And he had that condescending tone of voice Shinichi _hated_.

“Waiting on someone,” Shinichi kept his voice as flat and as noncommittal as possible.

“Who?”

“A friend.”

“A friend?”

“You heard me.”

Experience a lot of poisonings, do you?” he asked, changing his approach.

He really wanted to kick a soccer ball at this guy. Shinichi kept silent, keeping a steady gaze on him until the silence became uncomfortable for the man. It stretched out longer and longer. The cop fidgeted. “No,” he said finally. Lie, he thought.

“And what is it you do, Hiro?”

“I play,” Shinichi said. First name basis? Please. You couldn't turn good cop after you established yourself as bad cop.

“Play what?”

Shinichi didn’t answer.

He tried a different tack. “You're aware this is a black tie establishment?”

Shinichi looked around at all the well-dressed people and spread his arms. “No shit.” He'd ask what that had to do with anything, but he already knew. One of the principles of interrogation was to keep the perp off-kilter. It was meant to unnerve him. Heh. As if. “I had no idea.”

“You should really treat me with more respect,” the man said. Great. Not only was he a blowhard, he had a thing about authority.

Shinichi just crossed his arms. It was a sign of defensiveness, but yeah. Shinichi was feeling pretty damn defensive. He didn't want to catch the idiocy.

“What were you doing here?” he asked again.

Shinichi didn't say anything, refusing to answer a question that had already been asked.

“There is a man dead. Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

Of course it did. “Wasn't me.”

“I won’t ask you again.”

“Then don't.”

“The other patrons say you declared it was poisoning pretty quickly.”

“I tried to save a man’s life. Didn't realise that was a crime,” Shinichi said.

“How did you know it was cyanide?”

“I have fucking eyes.” Shinichi said, sounding bored. And he wasn't sure. First, the police would have to test any potential surfaces for chemical traces, which could be detected within a short time barring certain circumstances. If any were found, they would perform an autopsy. Then they'd take samples and do a toxicology report to confirm, which, unlike the media portrayed, took nearly four to six weeks for results. But there were common markers. Like the fact cyanide worked by starving oxygen from the body, and he'd had trouble breathing. The convulsions. The reddening of his skin. How quickly he’d died. The frothing at the mouth. Bright, dilated eyes. The musty sock almond smell only a few people were genetically predisposed to sense. Shinichi was one of them.

Not to mention one of the things all the suspects had in common was access to the highly regulated substance. Yoshio had connections to mining, and cyanide salts were used in electroplating and metal washing. The doctor was self-explanatory; cyanide had several medical uses. Even hat man. Potassium ferricyanide was used in a non-digital toning process for photographs. Hardly as lethal as the others, being only a minor irritant. Hmm. Maybe not him, then, though with access to a strong acid, hydrogen cyanide could be formed. The only one who wasn't suspicious was the girlfriend, as far as he knew. He really had to get her name.

The officer opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by Inspector Megure barrelling through the door.

“Sorry I'm late. Follow up on the Ekoda bomb case,” he said to the officer, but Shinichi overheard the low comment.

He narrowed his eyes. Why was Megure working a follow-up from the bombing of Kaito’s school four days ago? They must have found a body. Something to look into. He’d been so worried and so grateful that Kaito made it he hadn’t even stopped to think about anyone else. Shinichi felt sick. “What do you have for me, Officer Watanabe?”

“This guy won't talk,” Watanabe said, pointing at Shinichi.

“Your officer is an idiot and is wasting my time,” Shinichi said. ”Since somehow recognising the symptoms of cyanide poisoning clearly means I did it.”

“Cyanide?” Megure asked, looking him over and pulling at his moustache.

Shinichi wordlessly gestured to Dai’s body on the floor.

“I’m Inspector Megure. What have we got?”

“The victim’s name is Tanaka Daisuke. He was pronounced dead on arrival,” said one of the EMTs. “The COD looks like cardiac arrest, but chemical asphyxia due to cyanide could very well be the case.”

“Hiro had us call an ambulance, then the police,” Yoshio added. “He kept anyone from leaving and stayed close to Dai—the body so no one could mess with it before the police got here.”

“Who are you?” Megure asked Yoshio.

“I’m Kobayashi Yoshio, the bartender. I work two to close.” Shinichi blinked. Well, he did once live with a detective named Kogorou, so why not a Kobayashi Yoshio?

“All right. What happened?” Megure asked.

“I’d just refilled Daisuke’s glass with beer. He took a sip and just started breathing hard and clutching at his heart when Hiro said he’d been poisoned. He was dead not long after,” Yoshio said. “It could be my fault—but it wasn’t intentional, I swear! You can check the tap and glass and everything.” His hands started shaking. “He’s my cousin. If he’s dead because of me—”

“Calm down, calm down,” Megure said. “Did you notice anything before? Anything suspicious?”

Yoshio shook his head. “Hiro and I were just talking.” He gestured to Shinichi.

“About?” Megure pressed.

“Nothing in particular. Family. Girlfriends. Typical getting to know you shit.”

“Hiro?” Megure turned to him.

“Yamamoto Hiroto,” said Shinichi. “We introduced ourselves, he asked me what I was doing here, told him the same thing I told your pet idiot. I’m waiting on a friend.”

“You’re familiar for new acquaintances,” Megure observed, ignoring his gibe. Shinichi knew Megure well enough to know that meant he agreed with Shinichi.

“These are places to meet people,” Shinichi said. “Besides, I don’t give a fuck about respectful language.”

“I can tell,” Megure grumbled to himself.

“Anyway,” Shinichi pointed at the doctor. “She’s the one acting the most suspicious.” And had probably the easiest access to the murder weapon. “She kept trying to go after his cigar. You might want to check it out.” The photographer shifted, restless, cutting his eyes at the girlfriend. Hmm, interesting. The girlfriend shot a panicked look at the photographer and moved closer to Yoshio and Shinichi, touching her stomach again. It looked like a nervous reflex. “Maybe ask her what she knows.”

“What? No? Don’t listen to that punk—” Doctor Yamaguchi began, but Shinichi wasn’t listening, too busy taking a few steps towards the girlfriend.

He reached her, feeling the glare from the photographer as he put himself between them. “Hey, you alright?” he asked. The girlfriend was worrying her lip. “Anything I can do?”

“You didn’t kill him,” she said. She sounded certain.

“No,” Shinichi agreed. “You didn’t either.”

Relief washed over her face. “Stay here, _please_ ,” she begged, looking back over at the photographer and moving closer to him. Shinichi narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t much of a leap from abuse to murder, and he had tried to sidle out when Shinichi had asked Yoshio to keep everyone inside the bar. If he was jealous of their relationship, if the girlfriend was that scared of him...

“What’s your name?” Shinichi asked, voice soft.

“Kiyomi,” she said, gripping his arm tightly.

“—you go after the cigar?” Megure asked.

“It was a piece of him, okay? Daisuke was my ex, and I’m the one that broke things off. I ask to meet him, to talk things over, then he comes swaggering back into our old haunt with that _whore_ —” Dr. Yamaguchi continued ranting.

Kiyomi flinched. Shinichi put his arm around her.

“Undercover cop?” Yoshio whispered from his other side as the good Doctor Yamaguchi started on a truly impressive rant.

“Hell no,” Shinichi said. Which was true. He wasn't the police, and Consulting Detective wasn't an actual profession. “Fuck that noise. I took a toxicology class.” Sort of. His father had done a mystery writers’ workshop at a convention and one of the panels he’d moderated had been about the use of poisons in writing. “Wanted to be a mystery writer at some point.”

Yoshio made a noise of understanding.

“—but I am not a murderer!” Dr. Yamaguchi said. “I save lives!”

No, Shinichi thought, looking back at the photographer. As suspicious as the doctor had seemed, he knew who it was, and the motive. He just didn’t know how he’d done it. Not yet.

Now to get it out into the open.

-

The cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of Kaito’s neck. Well, he was glad he’d tucked the external drive underneath his bra before wiping the signs of his hacking. So close! He wanted to giggle hysterically.

“Rum, I presume?” he said, hands going up as he stood up. He wished he could turn around so he could see their face.

“Hardly.” A man's voice. “A knowledgeable little rat. Which organisation are you with? CIA? SVR? Secret Police? DGSE? MI6?” He had a western Japanese accent.

“None of the above!” Kaito said cheerfully. Ooh, he sounded tall, the voice coming from at least eight centimetres above him. He wondered if this was the man who'd killed Rose. Probably.

“You lie well.”

“You have no idea. But not about this, I'm afraid.”  He rolled a smoke bomb in his cuff. He just had to wait for the right moment. Kid was never unarmed!

“How did you find this room?”

“Please, darling. Is anything you people do actually a secret anymore?” Kaito said coquettishly, batting his eyes for effect even if the man couldn’t see it. It made him feel better at least. “Was it ever?”

“I thought we exterminated all the vermin.”

That didn't sound good.

“We're both reasonable people,” he tried again. His eyes flickered down to the monitor. Oooh, it had finished. Small mercies. He just had to get away. No problem!

The racking of the slide. A semi-automatic pistol, then. Now he really was in trouble. Not that he showed it, but sweat beaded on his brow.

“Right!” Kaito said, still cheerful. “Maybe not that reasonable.”

The muzzle of the pistol jabbed into the back of his head. “Who do you work for?”

Kaito kept his posture loose, fluid, open, non-threatening. “Now, now, darling; women are allowed to keep their secrets.”

A sharp intake of breath was all the distraction Kaito needed. He popped his cuff, dropping the smoke bomb with the paralytic and dodging to the right as a shot went off, embedding itself in the wall. The man fell back, stunned, having gotten a full face of it.

Kaito got his first full look at him. He _was_ tall. Cleft chin. Biiiig bushy moustache. Dressed in a black suit, trilby, sunglasses, and trench coat. Could his outfit scream "I'm shady!" any louder?

He took the opportunity pick up the gun, a Glock 17 9mm, grateful he'd had the foresight to wear his gloves, and slid out the magazine, removing all the bullets one by one, each clinking as they hit the floor. “Tsk. Tsk. Such a brute, you are. Naughty, naughty.” Kaito knelt down and took off the man’s hat and sunglasses.

He pulled out his camera, one he'd used to document everything so far. “Smile!” he said, before taking a picture. The man didn't move. Couldn't actually, but eh. Semantics. “What a wonderful model!” He didn't recognise him, but Shinichi might. He knelt down again and patted the prone man on the cheek. “It's been fun, but sadly, I have other places I need to be.” The man’s eyes screamed murder. He touched his nose for good measure.

Also the paralytic was based on average body volume and fat content since he couldn't tailor each individual dose, and it would likely wear off quicker than normal.

Ahh, he was already twitching.

Time to go.

 


	11. The Chase

Kaito ran through a quick checklist in his mind as he left the hidden room. Nothing left at his desk that could identify him. He’d wiped his prints, made sure none of his DNA was left behind as a matter of course. Making sure no one was around, he poked his head out of the fake wall of the break room and slid the wall back into place, then he tucked his gloves into an inside pocket, dodging the sweep of the camera with a casual movement.

He ducked into the toilet two floors down to reapply his lipstick, check his wig, and change his shoes from heels to something better for escape. The man would wake soon, and Kaito needed to escape before then.

Good. The gun hadn’t mussed up his hair too much. He smoothed it down. Everything looked all right, so he headed down to the lobby, nodding to the few people he passed that worked directly with him.

Kaito knew the best way to get caught was to act suspicious, so he didn’t. So far, it was working. That would change as soon as tall-ominous-and-stupid woke up. The forced nonchalance was a bit draining, though. And Shinichi was dealing with a murder. Kaito needed to be there for damage control _yesterday_. Not that he didn't have faith in him, but he wasn't near as practiced in the art of deception as Kaito, and even as Conan he couldn't help himself when it came to a case.

Kaito couldn’t take the chance. They couldn't get caught now. Not when they were finally making progress on Shinichi's Organisation.

“Emi-chan!” he heard a voice cry as he passed by the front desk.  A hand latched on to his sleeve.

So close! Kaito mentally cursed as he braced himself and turned, slipping into an easy smile. “Kotomi-san,” he said, slightly inclining his head. The woman had been after him for something since he started working there, but he’d always brushed her off with polite deflection. Seemed she was determined to do something about it this time. He gave an experimental tug, but she had him in a tight grip. To break it forcefully would draw attention he didn't need right now.

“You need to go out with me tonight,” she said.

Kaito blinked. “Ehhhh?” That sounded like—

“C’mon, I’ll bet it will be easier with you there! You’re so cute!”

“Easier?” Kaito said without comprehension. Was she hitting on him? To be honest, he had other things on his mind. He caught the security guard by the elevator holding a hand to his ear, then glancing directly at him. Yeah. He really needed to go.

“Emi-chan, come on, help me out. Momo ditched me; I need someone to join me on a double date.”

That was little better, and Kaito already had Shinichi anyway. “Not tonight,” Kaito said firmly, watching another suited man settle at end the corridor, coming closer. The door was still clear. He needed to go. _Now._ Even if it was a little more rude than Saitou Emi usually was. It’s not like she would exist past today, anyway, not with that much focus on her, so it didn’t matter any more. “If you'll excuse me,” he said quietly. “I do have somewhere I need to be.”

“Now, Emi-chan,” Kotomi began.

So persistent. “I have a date of my own tonight~” He put his finger over his lip, smiling.

The receptionist blinked. “Really? Oh! Why didn’t you tell me?” she pouted.

“Sec~ret~!” Kaito said. He winked, tapping his lip. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“At least someone’s having luck.” She let out a sigh.

Kaito let out a little giggle. “You’ll get there,” he said, “I believe in you!” He timed his walk so he’d exit just as someone was entering.

He walked through the doors only for someone to bump hard into his shoulder, knocking him to the floor. Deliberately, because Kaito had gone out of his way to dodge. It was another security guard, but Kaito kept his head down and didn't dare look up at his face. Not this close. He felt a hand brush against his breast forms and squeeze (they were skin temperature and felt remarkably real, Kaito knew what he was doing), but Kaito still made sure to position his arm just so to accidentally block him and used that time for a quick counter search himself. His blood ran cold. Gun. Bastard had a handgun tucked into the small of his back.

Bastard. Pervert. Kaito took it with him.

A lot of firepower for a lowly security guard. Illegal, too. A good magician made a good pickpocket, and the whole point of that man’s carelessness had been to check where he'd hidden the drive. Kaito wasn't stupid or new to the game.

Amateur. He was ten years too late to outclass Kaito.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss,” he began, faux in earnest, but Kaito waved him off and used the distraction to right himself and duck into the busy afternoon streets, clutching at his bag. He picked up the pace, walking as fast as was possible without it being suspicious. He checked himself for bugs as he walked, making sure the man hadn’t tagged him with anything.

After three blocks, he let himself relax a little. He took a deep breath, checked out a store window which had a fantastic white dress on display. He might need to swing back here later. But more importantly, according to the reflection left of the dress, at least three men in fedoras and sunglasses were trailing him, as well as the security he’d seen in the lobby. Probably more he couldn't see, presumably all armed as well.

Kaito gave a breathy little disappointed sigh, continued walking past the building, then took a sharp right at the next intersection down a little road, the opposite direction of his usual route home.

He walked a circuitous route around the shopping district close to the office, just meandering, looking at anything that caught his fancy. He doubled back past the white dress and managed to lose them.

Kaito made it to the next block down before he caught sight of another one, but crossing two streets and cutting close to the crowd of a shopping mall managed to shake his pursuers.

He was about to cut and run for his safe house to change into the night's disguise when he caught sight of another one. No, it was the same one from the beginning. Though they all wore the same clothes, Kaito was adept at picking out body shapes.

He ducked around, cut through an alley and around through the side door of a restaurant, across another street and walked a little bit further before pulling out a mirror and checking behind him again under the pretext of fixing his make-up. He was still there. Damn it all.

Okay, so maybe Kaito was in a slight bit of trouble.

“Really?” Kaito complained, eyeing the same person in a black suit and sunglasses and fedora trailing him as he doubled back _yet again._ He’d managed to shake most all of them, but this one in particular was a tenacious bastard. Probably the leader, which made the two flanking him his subordinates.

And Kaito was still in his skirt suit. He could change into the disguise he’d worn underneath, strip off the sculpting and the wig, but the man kept just close enough to be a problem. Even Kaito wasn’t fast enough to do it directly in front of him without some kind of distraction to divert his attention. These double layers were starting to get uncomfortably hot, and he was afraid his sweat and the heat of his body might damage the external hard drive.

What was with these people? He couldn’t even stop long enough change his _face_. Kaito had no intention of getting within effective range of a pistol, and kept them more than ten meters away. And all of them looked terribly suspicious; it was ridiculous. What kind of people dressed in black suits and hats and trench coats anyway?

Tokyo was a cosmopolitan place, but even so, people like that were eye-catching. And they were supposed to be professionals?

Yeah, Kaito didn't think much of them. Granted, according to Shinichi most of the remaining talented high profile operatives were imprisoned in some undisclosed location, so maybe what was left was the dregs of the organisation. Lots of mercs. Hired guns.

Hmm. Something to think about. Either way, they needed to leave him alone.

The drive was a heavy weight against his chest. He needed back-up copies of it post haste. He'd gone through too much trouble to get his hands on it, and it definitely had damning information on it. He knew how easy it was for such information to get lost in evidence, too. Or “misplaced.”

But how did they keep finding him? The drive was his, he’d made doubly certain he hadn't been bugged...his eyes flickered up and he caught sight of something just as it disappeared behind a building. Ah. Drone. That could be...problematic, to say the least. Even though it was illegal to fly them over residential areas.

Not that they cared about legalities. Not that Kaito himself cared about them either, not if it got him closer to Pandora.

He licked his lips and reassessed the situation. Firming his plan in his mind, he changed direction casually, heading back to the Haido business district. For a man with wings, the air was supposed to be his friend, not his enemy.

Making sure they thought he wasn’t on to them was important too, or else he would have already flown. He cut through another building, made a show of checking his watch, snapping his fingers and twisting his wrist as if he’d forgotten something. He ducked into a small cafe, went to the women’s room, lifted himself out the small ventilation window (he just barely fit), checked quickly for cameras, reversed his jacket, took off his shirt, skirt, forms, and wig, pulled the tie that held his trousers up, and resculpted his face.

His handbag reversed too, and it had a place to attach another strap so it would wear on the back. It had room enough to stuff his clothes in, and just like that, he was able to disappear into the crowd. He doubled back again and ducked into the department store, collapsing into a chair inside one of the many busy restaurants, palm on his face. He was free.

Or so he thought.

“That was an impressive stunt,” a familiar voice said, sitting down across from him and placing his hands on the table. The voice was calm, polite. He'd heard it before near old man Suzuki.

He looked up. Ah! The scary fake face guy with the chestnut hair and the half-rimmed glasses from the Luna Memoria Heist. Kaito didn’t trust that placid expression for a moment. Kaito had a split second to decide. He’d been with Conan, demanded his picture back with him right there, so he was Shinichi-approved. But he was giving him a strange assessing look.  ”Thank you,” he said to buy time. _Shinichi, he’s safe?_ Kaito sent an image of him. _He seems suspicious of me._

 _How did you come across—_ A feeling like a dog shaking itself off. _Yeah, you can trust him. A bit._

_A bit?_

_He’s fine._

_Not if he thinks I’m dangerous._

_You’re right._

Because _that_ helped. Kaito did what he did when things surprised him: he grinned. It was better than running away. Shinichi had some creepy friends. Shit. He hadn't even realised he'd been following him. This guy was good. “Some people don't like to be told 'No,’” Kaito said, voice light.

The man's expression hardened. “Is that so?”

The corner of Kaito’s mouth twisted in the ghost of a smile.

“I admit, I was surprised to see you. You haven't been in school.” Kaito hasn't been in school? Ekoda knew he wouldn't be returning either way, not to mention the destruction of the school, and who was this guy that he would even _care_...Then it dawned on him. If this man, who was a confederate with ‘Conan,’ was talking about school, that meant he thought he was Shinichi. This Kaito could work with. He knew they were allies; Conan had been there when he had demanded the photograph Kaito took of him back.

“For reasons that are obvious to you, I'm sure,” Kaito said, settling into his role, thinking about the cast of Shinichi’s face when he was on a case. Like a hound on the scent, intense and focused.

“'The fear of death is worse than death itself,’” the man quoted, posture deceptively open.

_Uh, Shinichi? He just quoted something at me. I think he thinks I’m you._

_Right. You’re not the only one who likes disguise. We have a code._

_What? Who else likes disguise? **Him**? _

_Later. Tell him this._

“Publilius Syrus, _Sententiae_ ,” Kaito said alongside Shinichi. “‘When life is continual terror, death is a blessing,’” Kaito quoted.

“‘As men, we are all equal in the presence of death,’” he and the man said at the same time, Shinichi’s voice running through his head.

“You've been reading,” the man said, and then he relaxed. Kaito pointedly did not wipe sweat away from his face. The man was intense, even through his placid fake face.

“I've had time,” Kaito said, wondering what the hell this was all about. Shinichi was currently in a case, so he didn’t want to bother him more than he had to. It was nice to confirm his theory had been correct, however.

“I imagine so,” the man said. “A mutual acquaintance said you hadn't been back since you collapsed.”

Collapse? When had Shinichi collapsed? He frowned. Kaito had to check that out. But thinking back to the man’s false face, Kaito said, “You of all people know the value of hiding,” Kaito said, holding out his thumb and forefinger in the shape of a gun and firing it, miming recoil, because Shinichi had been shot at.

“And yet, you gave that information to them, instead of me.” He sounded almost as if he were hurt.

They, whoever they were, didn't understand the value of hiding? So Shinichi hadn’t told them something? “Maybe I'm thinking it's time more people knew,” Kaito said, having no idea what he was talking about. But hey, he could extrapolate like hell.

“If that is so, then why haven't you told them what I know?”

Which was…? Damn this man’s tendency to speak in code. “You were smart enough to figure it out,” Kaito guessed.

“You were careless. It was easy.” 

 _Bingo_! “That just proves my point. If you can do it, they should be able to as well.”

Realisation dawned on his face. “You're testing them.”

Best keep it vague. This whole conversation was a minefield. “Perhaps.”

“You know we're here to help. There's no sense doing it on your own. You know how well we work together.”

Kaito thought about how Shinichi was one step ahead of everyone, and supposed that was true. “Correction: I know how well we’ve worked together in the past.”

“You’re acting like you don’t trust me,” the man said, frowning.

“At this point, I don’t trust anyone,” Kaito said honestly. Probably the first honest thing he’d said the entire conversation.

“I heard about what happened. You think it's them?”

“In a certain manner of speaking, I suppose.” Kaito had been doing some thinking. It had to be Shinichi's group because of Rose. Snake wouldn't have a reason to kill her. Unless she was a freelancer, but even then.

But what was that Black Organisation of Shinichi's stake in Kaito's own life? Why were they after him? Because he looked like Shinichi? Because they were jonesing after Kid? Because they thought Shinichi was Kid? Because they couldn't be sure which of them was Shinichi?

Because he'd rescued that little lady friend of Shinichi's?

It was a sobering thought.

What if they'd succeeded in killing him?

What if they'd succeeded in killing his friends?

... What would he have done if they had killed Aoko?

He set his mouth in a grim line, uncharacteristically serious. “No, at this point, I don't trust anyone,” he repeated.

He slammed the guard’s gun on the table, _hard_.

Then he stood and walked away.

-

And Kaito had met Akai. Shinichi wondered how that came about. Probably something to do with that nebulous feeling of tension he couldn't pin down before.

But he couldn't spare the time to think about it. Shinichi was in a spot of trouble, he had to admit.

Certainly, it wasn’t the first time he’d been suspected of being the murderer in a case. It wasn’t even the first time he’d had to investigate one undercover. However, in the Shiragami case, he’d at least had the freedom of movement.

Most of the time as Conan, his presence had been dismissed because of his age, and he’d been able to conduct his own investigation under Megure’s nose.

As Yamamoto Hiroto, though, it was proving to be somewhat problematic. He was one of the actual suspects, in the direct line of interrogation, and Megure was already suspicious of him just because of his looks. He didn’t like outsiders interfering in his investigation anyway. It made it hard to manoeuver. Each theory he put forth would make the inspector more suspicious and disinclined to believe anything else Shinichi said.

Hiroto was supposed to have just been a way for them to fit in and canvass the neighbourhood as it were. A way to insert himself in with the already established Reika in a way that left the both of them beyond reproach. No one typically gave a second thought to a young heterosexual couple who kept to themselves. In fact, it was almost expected. Shinichi was only here to establish his presence in the neighbourhood because of its vicinity to D—’s main office, maybe make some contacts in case something happened.

Murder was a little more than something. It was a lot of something, actually.

But Shinichi knew who did it. He just didn't have anything more than circumstantial evidence, and the person would just verbally deny it anyway unless Shinichi had direct evidence to back it up.

Shinichi cast his eyes about the room, slipping his hand into his pocket. No doubt about it. The criminal was that person. Kiyomi still had her arms wrapped around his, pressing tightly against his arm. He didn’t begrudge her though. The photographer had a nasty attitude, worse than the doctor.

From here, he could see the blemishes covering her face, hidden by make-up, not to mention the looseness and give of her bra as it brushed against his arm, lending credence to his deduction.

And Megure couldn't arrest without evidence. So Shinichi had to find some way to get him the evidence without casting more suspicion on himself. What a headache.

A bright call of “Inspector Megure!” had Shinichi turning his attention to the entrance.

It was Detective Takagi, looking rumpled and dirty but still chipper.

“It’s been a long week,” Chief Inspector Megure said to him as he rubbed his aching head. It was muttered as they were standing a bit away from most of the suspects, but Shinichi had unconsciously sidled closer to the crime scene, and by extension them, a habit from Conan hard to shake.

-

Juuzou normally wasn't one to complain, but his week had been ridiculous. A stabbing and a drowning homicide on Saturday, piano wire decapitation on Sunday, a shooting on Monday, an exsanguination and bombing on Tuesday, criminal negligence leading to the death of a small child on Wednesday, arson to cover up a bludgeoning on Thursday, and now this.

A potential poisoning and headache inducing suspects on Friday. He just wanted his day to be over with. It was supposed to be, but then he'd been called in for this. The people he trusted on Beika force were getting stretched thin, what with Shiratori and Satou out on another murder, Chiba handling the rest of the Ekoda follow-up. Supposedly alongside Takagi. Something wasn’t right. Things hadn’t been this bad for some time. A two-month reprieve after supposedly finding the source of Beika’s inflated crime rate and then crime crawled back up like it had never left. Juuzou had no doubt who was behind it, either. That damn criminal syndicate masquerading as a financial group. Still, there wasn’t much he could do, other than his job.

Though it did leave him wondering who he could trust these days, which was one of the reasons he’d been working so heavily. Why he’d been working his closest subordinates so heavily. He trusted few people these days. It made him wonder how many deaths those people had been responsible for. Three corrupted officers in his division alone.

He’d hand-picked those people.

Juuzou was a simple man, and always had been. These kinds of secret spy shenanigans left a bad taste in his mouth, and he was tired of all these outsiders running all over his jurisdiction. But he couldn't do anything about it

“What have we got?” Takagi asked.

“Poisoning,” Juuzou grunted. “Did you find any leads on the school after I left?”

“Someone in dark clothing was watching the building. I called for backup and gave chase, but nothing,” Takagi said, ineffectually trying to dust himself off. “I didn't catch them. There was gunfire.”

Juuzou grimaced. Then he broke down the suspects to Takagi, naming them and summarizing them.

There was Kobayashi Yoshio, the bartender of _Moonlite Lounge_ and cousin to the victim. He’d been nothing but helpful to the investigation, almost living up to his namesake. 27.

Yamaguchi Minako, a medical doctor, emergency medical specialist, worked at Haido General Hospital, ex-girlfriend of the victim, having just finished shrieking his ear off and contributing to his headache. Dodgy. 32.

Takahashi Ichiro, a freelance photographer specialising in vintage-looking photos using a film camera. Also 32.  Not prone to talking much. Also dodgy.

Nakamura Kiyomi, 28, the current girlfriend of the victim and also his personal assistant. She was currently attached to the arm of the last suspect, Yamamoto Hiroto and scared out of her wits. Extremely emotional, but it could be an act.

Yamamoto Hiroto, 22. Bleached hair. Youngest of the bunch, dressed like a punk. Had no respect for anyone or anything. A complete mystery. No one had ever ever seen him before today, and when pressed, even with the threat of jail, he claimed he was just “waiting for a friend.” No one knew his vocation, and he didn't offer it. Surprisingly knowledgeable about both poisons and crime scenes, which made him dodgiest of all. But he had attempted to save the victim’s life and prevented Yamaguchi from taking evidence, supposedly. Arrogant and extremely rude. The last thing Juuzou needed was another damn civilian mucking about his crime scene. Yamamoto Hiroto seemed disinterested beyond making sure it wasn't tampered with, but that could be misleading if he was in on it with the girlfriend. Or the cousin. Maybe they were all in on it together.

Tanaka Daisuke, 31, was the victim. Executive manager of D— conglomerate’s automotive division. Healthy, other than being a smoker and the occasional indulgence in alcohol. A product of Japan’s economic boom, one who had made it through its recession as well thanks to business savvy.

D— as a company had a lot of enemies, and a lot of frozen assets at the moment, courtesy of a police raid earlier in the year. Rumored to be another front for that criminal syndicate. But nothing they could absolutely pin on them either, so the National Police had to let them continue to operate, and it didn't seem to affect their bottom line.

Juuzou’s preliminary analysis of the body seemed to agree with Yamamoto’s conclusions, but they hadn't detected any traces yet, and the coroner had yet to arrive.

Cyanide poisoning. What a week.

And no lack of motive. It could very well be anything from another employee to someone with a grudge against the company, but Juuzou had a feeling it was one of these five.

“Anything?” Juuzou asked Officer Tome, who approached him as he was thinking.

The crime scene analyst shook his head. “No traces of cyanide found on the tap, the cigar, or the glass,” Tome said. “We've covered pretty much the entire bar.” While determining the exact manner of agent in a human took a while, forensic analysts used a simple chemical reaction test to determine traces of cyanide left on inanimate objects, and there were none on anything in the vicinity.

“I told you it wasn't the cigar!” Yamaguchi crowed.

“What about his effects?” Yamamoto asked, eyes narrowed, face focused. “That doesn't make any sense.”

Juuzou stared. That expression—he almost looked like—no, it was Juuzou's mind playing tricks. Thin the face a little, change the hair... No way that punk was Kudou Shinichi.

Shinichi-kun was a bit of a brat, but no. There was no way, not with his looks and his sour attitude and his language. It wasn't the first time someone had looked so much like him. Juuzou harrumphed. He was so tired he was off his game. That had to be it.

“It has to be the cigar,” Yamamoto repeated, Nakamura still clinging to his arm, her face tucked behind his shoulder. “If everything else came up clean.”

“And how would you know?” Juuzou asked.

“You know, you could just tell him,” Kobayashi said. “I don't know why you're trying to hide it.”

Yamamoto's scowl deepened. Juuzou looked back and forth between the two. They really were awfully friendly for two supposed new acquaintances. “Hide what?” Could Yamamoto have killed Tanaka at the behest of Kobayashi?

“Nothing,” Yamamoto said at the same time Kobayashi said, “He’s a mystery writer.”

Yamamoto shot him a look that could kill.

“A mystery writer,” Juuzou repeated, skeptical.

Yamamoto actually pinked a bit, though it was hard to see. “Hobbyist,” he grumbled, scowling fiercely, glaring at Kobayashi, who just smiled weakly.

“And you think that makes you skilled enough to run an investigation?” Juuzou asked. He hated these types of people. Thought they were something just because they wrote a little, each of 'em thinking they were the next Kudou Yuusaku.

“Not at all,” Yamamoto said, “which is why I didn't want to bring it up.”

Takahashi, the photographer, harrumphed. “Can we get on with this? Some of us have places we need to be.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Yamamoto snorted, derisive. “Look, writing is essentially problem-solving at its basest form. It's picking out patterns. Motive, means, opportunity.”

“Don't lecture me on how to run my own crime scene,” Juuzou said.

“I'm not. We’re just not so different in what we do, that's all. I don't have a dog in this fight. I may have had the opportunity, but I don’t have the motive or the means, and it doesn’t make sense for me to poison someone I just met.”

“Unless you came here specifically to poison him at the behest of someone else,” Juuzou pointed out.

Yamamoto stared flatly at him, meeting his eyes and holding them in defiance. “As opposed to the ex-girlfriend of the victim, or the ex-boyfriend of the woman standing behind me, who happens to be the current girlfriend of the victim.” Nakamura gripped Yamamoto’s arm tighter, near hiding behind the leathered up punk. Juuzou was surprised she didn’t poke her eye out with the studs on his jacket.

How would he know, unless...He looked over to Kobayashi. “You two talked that much?”

Kobayashi shook his head. “No, but he’s not wrong.”

“No, he’s not,” Nakamura Kiyomi agreed quietly. Takahashi, the alleged ex-boyfriend, moved closer to Juuzou which brought him closer to Nakamura. As he did, Nakamura shifted to the other side of Yamamoto.

That was an interesting and telling reaction. Juuzou frowned, studying Yamamoto with a measured glance, thinking. “What are you doing here, then?”

“As I told your pet idiot, I’m waiting on a friend,” Yamamoto said, scowling and cutting his eyes at Officer Watanabe, who bristled and reddened, face getting hot with anger.

Juuzou harrumphed. “Then how would you know?” Juuzou didn't know about the liaison between Takahashi Ichiro and Nakamura Kiyomi, but Doctor Yamaguchi had spoken about her previous relationship with the victim. Loudly and at _length._ Juuzou's ears were still ringing.

“Because you know what else artists do? They observe people for inspiration. It’s not hard to get a rough idea of what’s going on if you’re observant enough.”

He had a point, Juuzou thought.

“‘Artist?’ Isn't that kind of pretentious for a 'hobbyist’ writer to say,” Doctor Yamaguchi scoffed, and Juuzou mentally let out a sigh at the scare quotes all over the place. It couldn't be any more obvious the two didn't like each other, and their sniping back and forth was making his headache worse.

“If you must know, I’m primarily a musician,” Yamamoto said. “As I have said to you before. I don't like repeating myself. So yeah, while the mystery thing is a side hobby, I do my part as a lyricist. So I think artist describes me very well, fuck you very much.”

“Your part?” Takagi asked.

Oddly enough, Yamamoto's face shifted into something almost reaching deference, and he actually answered him politely, surprising Juuzou. “I’m a member of the hard rock band _Deep Dive._ But, you know, you should probably be investigating the murder instead of bothering me about shit no one cares about that isn't even relevant to the case.”

“But you never know what small detail could be relevant,” Takagi said. “Co—I mean a friend is right about that.”

Yeah, his officers getting advice from a nuisance of a six year old. Precocious, but _six._ Juuzou wondered what that said about the NPA. But he guessed it wasn't any stranger than Mouri-san's inconsistent back and forth, especially now that he’d lost the “sleeping” part of his routine for the most part.

Private detectives. So melodramatic. Even his old friend Kudou was to a degree.

He didn't miss Yamamoto making a funny face at Takagi's statement though. Probably didn't like that his attempt to show off and look cool was deflated.

“No cyanide traces found on his lips either, sir,” Officer Tome said. “Or any other external part of his body.”

“But it was a poisoning,” Juuzou stated, rather than asked.

The coroner, who was still in the process of examining the corpse of Tanaka Daisuke, murmured his assent. “It was. I don't have the genetic ability to confirm with olfaction but I can safely say the cause of death was asphyxia by cyanide. I cannot find any injection marks, and as CSI Officer Tome said, the reading comes up negative on his lips, but positively on the inside of his mouth. In a very high dose. How that happened, I haven't a clue, but with this amount, survival would have been impossible. You don't accidentally get that much. Homicide.”

“Very well. You can take the body of the victim away,” Juuzou said. “We'll need an autopsy to confirm.”

The coroner nodded, calling over a stretcher to transport the body away.

Which left Juuzou and Takagi alone with the suspects as the forensic analysts continued to bag and tag the crime scene. If they let them leave, there was a chance they could hide the evidence. Not that he had any idea how it happened yet, but experience told him it would be a bad thing.

“Takagi-kun,” Juuzou murmured. “Call Haido General Hospital and ask about missing cyanide stores,” he ordered his subordinate on a hunch.

“On it, Inspector Megure,” Takagi said. Good man.

He’d already heard Yamaguchi's and parts of Kobayashi's story.

Tanaka's father owned the bar, and Kobayashi was his aunt's son, making them first cousins. They weren't close, but they did socialise every now and again, mainly here.

Because it was essentially Tanaka Senior’s bar, Tanaka Daisuke drank here rather than patronise someone else's business. Yamaguchi had been the previous girlfriend, and they both worked long hours, so often times the only place they could spend time together was here.

It was a very recent break up. Yamaguchi hadn't known that Tanaka's father owned the bar, though. Either one could be the potential murderer. Jealousy, or the fact she'd been dumped. For Kobayashi, it was the bar ownership. Tanaka-san had his career, but according to his officers, there were rumours from the regulars the bar’s ownership would actually go to Kobayashi if something were to happen to Tanaka.

Kobayashi worked here, had easy and complete access to the drinks, and had been here since two when his shift started.

Yamaguchi came by at five, had been coming by every day, hoping for a chance to rekindle a relationship with Tanaka, only for those hopes to be dashed on the rocks of his new relationship with Nakamura.

Which left Yamamoto, Takahashi, and Nakamura, who were a little more complicated.

Yamamoto was a complete unknown. By all accounts, today was his first time here. Didn't dress according to code, though leather wasn't exactly denim, so he'd been let in. And apparently, a rock musician, which explained the clothes and the attitude. Though why he didn't come out and say it was anyone's guess. He had to know it would cast more suspicions on him. Or maybe he was doing it because it made him suspicious in an attempt to throw the investigation off?

“And you, Nakamura-san?” Juuzou said, rubbing his aching scar under his hat.

“Work has been... difficult, with the internal affairs investigation,” Nakamura said, voice soft, eyes downcast. Her grip on Yamamoto's arm was tight.

Why was she clinging to him? Juuzou had heard them whispering together, the two surprisingly close, just like the cousin. It was curious.

“Dai-chan’s been under a lot of stress. We’ve both been staying late, trying to keep our division together. We’ve worked hard.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “It shouldn't have ended up like this.”

“Yeah, work,” Yamaguchi said. “Much of that on your back, I'm sure.”

Nakamura Kiyomi flinched, one hand clutching at her stomach.

“One more comment out of you, and I’ll arrest you for interference in an investigation,” Juuzou snapped, at the end of his patience.

“Not that it's any of your business, but we’ve never even slept together. We haven't had the time. He's been avoiding this place because of you,” Nakamura said, the first time he'd seen her raise her eyes all night.

Yamaguchi opened her mouth, but Juuzou shot a glare at her, and she closed it.

“And the events as you remember them?” Juuzou said.

“We,” she swallowed, looked down again, folding her arms against herself. “He said he wasn't going to spend the rest of his life living in fear of the consequences, and asked me to come here with him so he could show me around. We got here around five thirty, I think?” She stopped speaking.

“Go on,” Yamamoto prodded, gently.

“Dai had several alcoholic drinks. He seemed fine at first and then, and then—” she lost control of herself, started crying as Yamamoto pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

“And you?” Juuzou said to Yamamoto.

“I'm meeting a friend here later, as I said. I arrived here at six fifteen, hoping to catch a couple drinks, see what kind of place this was, if it was good enough for them. Got to talking with Yoshio when he asked me if I needed a light, then twenty minutes later, Dai was dead. He had several drinks, but he lit his cigar only a few minutes before he convulsed and died. That was the only new variable introduced, which is why I know the murder weapon has to be the cigar.”

“No traces were found on the cigar,” Juuzou said.

“Not _on_ , no,” Yamamoto said, which oddly enough made the doctor tense, and Takahashi, who was being eerily quiet, shift his cold attention to the man instead of the woman in his arms. Yamamoto met his glare, returning it with a challenging grim stare of his own. It was as if they were doing battle with their eyes.

Juuzou turned to Takahashi Ichiro, freelance photographer, whose outfit also barely fit dress code, what with the Hanshin baseball cap and cloth moto jacket over rumpled tie and slacks. He was standing close to the doctor, their posture mirrored. For only being the exes of the affected couple, they sure acted very familiar as far as body language went. How well did they know one another? “And you? Why were you here?”

“Looking for my next subject,” the man said. “As this... ‘artist,’” his tone, dripping with derision, made it clear he didn't consider Yamamoto one, “has said, people watching is a good way to find inspiration.”

“‘People watching?’ Interesting phrase for stalking,” Yamamoto fired back.

“What are you trying to insinuate? That bitch been lying again?” Takahashi asked.

Nakamura flinched again, tucked herself further into Yamamoto's arms, and Juuzou didn't blame her. No wonder she'd looked for a champion. It still didn't explain why he was willing to be hers, but between Takahashi and Yamaguchi, and her dead boyfriend, it was a stressful and hostile situation for her.

Juuzou had had enough of _everyone_. “There will be no more of that. Speak civilly, all of you. I won't ask again.”

“What are you going to do? Arrest me?” Takahashi sneered.

“For defamation and harassment if I have to, yes,” Juuzou said. Thankfully, that shut him up. He turned to Nakamura. “Is there any truth to the stalking allegation?” He asked, pitching his voice to be soft. He didn't let it sway his thinking, though. She had personal access to the victim and could very well be the murderess herself, no matter how real her distress seemed.

But if it were true, it brought Takahashi further up in the suspect list.

Her lower lip trembled. “Yes,” she said.

Takahashi shot her a look that could kill. “Lying cunt,” he muttered under his breath, but Juuzou well heard him. He'd had more than enough of today. 

“What time did you arrive?” Juuzou directed the question to the irascible man.

“Around five forty-five, I guess,” he said.

“That's a lie,” Yamaguchi said immediately. “You followed them in.”

“I did not.”

“I was watching! Were you really stalking her?” Yamaguchi demanded.

“Don’t act like you’re not the one that that was waiting for that bastard’s scraps of attention like a little bitch!”

Yamaguchi slapped him.

Takahashi lunged for her, but before Juuzou or his officers could intercede, Yamamoto stepped forward in one deft movement, placing himself between Takahashi and Yamaguchi, grabbing him by the wrist.

“For all you've derided my ability as an artist,” Yamamoto said, bored, like he wasn't worth talking to, “I at least have the capability to avoid using the same insult twice in a row.”

Takahashi jerked, but he couldn't remove his hand. He pulled back his other arm like he was going to punch Yamamoto, but he let him go before he could and gracefully moved aside, still keeping himself as a buffer between Nakamura and Takahashi.

Juuzou decided it was high time to step forward, gesturing for an officer to stand next to each of them. This had the potential to blow up in his face, a bomb just waiting to go off. Takagi needed to finish with the hospital so he could help question the suspects, separate them, because this clearly wasn't working.

“How exactly do you know one another?” Juuzou said to them.

They glared at each other.

-

Kaito barely spared a glance at the time as he forced his way through the crowd of people. He wished he could have taken a taxi, but it was especially dangerous after they’d already tailed him once. He was so late it was ridiculous.

Just to be sure, he'd doubled back several times. Being in a hurry and having to improvise didn't excuse carelessness. He had to drop off the information, back it up, squirrel away the copies in separate hiding places, and change disguises.

He hadn't expected to be found out so soon, but it couldn't be helped. He'd gotten most of what he came for anyway. Kaito consoled himself with the fact that being where he wasn't supposed to was what gave him away, rather than any fault in his skills. He had several people he could impersonate if he wanted to infiltrate again, so it wasn’t as if it any chances of doing more reconnaissance were gone. Just a little more inconvenient.

He reached the bar. Police lights flickered as traffic was diverted around the parked cars. He made it to the door just fine, but there were two policemen at the entrance barring the way, and the slightly dorky one he'd disguised as before was on the phone speaking excitedly about hospitals and poison.

Weirdo.

“Miss, you can’t come through!” said the officer holding the cordon.

Well, Kaito couldn't let that happen. He pushed through, bunching his crimson beaded evening gown so they wouldn't tear the hem, making him show off a great deal of stockinged leg, lace and strap just peeking through. He liked his dress; with a collared illusion neckline, the top contoured to his body, then flared out elegantly for movement with a pleated split, draped at the hip, performing well in both fashion and function. He wore a different wig; his black hair was done up in an elegant twist, his hands in formal kid gloves the same shade and covered with the same glimmering diamantes, the design resembling a flock of birds, the modified-for-movement silhouette flaring out, edged in red feathers. He pursed his lips—lipstick a deep, rich red, matching his dress. Deny him, would they? “I don't think so,” he muttered under his breath.

The full word for con was confidence trick, after all. So Kaito just needed a little confidence.

Kaito clenched his gloved fists, and shouldered past the officer. He couldn't even dream of holding him back. He'd already made it past him when the man grabbed his arm.

Kaito shrieked. “Get your hands off me! I work here!” he said.

“Miss, there’s been a murder!” the officer said. “No one is allowed in or out.”

“So what?” he said in a huff, jerking his arm out of his grip. “I swear if you make me even later—”

“Miss, this is a crime scene—”

“Just try and stop me!” he said. “I dare you! So help me, if you don’t let me get to my darling right now, I’m going to—”

 _Kaito!_ “Reika!” Shinichi said in visible relief, cracking a smile. It lit up his entire face, and softened it considerably. Kaito's heart lurched. “About time!” He whispered something to the woman standing next to him, who nodded and gave him a shaky smile. He frowned. “You’re late.”

Inspector Megure’s jaw dropped as he looked back and forth between him and Shinichi like he couldn't believe it. Kaito wanted to snicker. He'd met the man in passing at a few cases, but the ones he'd been on generally involved secluded murders, and he avoided the clean-up. Handy, that.

 _You doubted?_ “Darling!” he crowed at Shinichi “I have had a hell of a day, let me tell you.” He forced his way past the officers and the second cordon keeping Shinichi and a few others from the rest of the room. Kaito stomped towards the him and stood in front of him with a glare, his hands on his hips. “What have I told you about getting into trouble, Hiro?”

 _Never._ “Wait until you’re with me, so it’s more fun?” he said, stepping forward, catching him up and sweeping him around. He looped his arms around his neck, and pressed his forehead against Shinichi's. They looked at one another for a long moment; to an outsider it would simply appear they were in love, rather than mentally communicating.

 _They took the victim for autopsy already?_ Kaito was saying instead.

_Yeah._

_What was his name?_

_Tanaka Daisuke._

Kaito made a soft noise, then they were kissing. “Mmm, exactly,” he murmured against his lips.

 _You’re surprised,_ Shinichi thought, _Why?_ “You came,” he said aloud, pulling away a bit, and there was such a swell of relief in his voice it warmed Kaito to his bones.

“Of course I did!” he said passionately, before swiping his tongue against his bottom lip, moving the kiss from sweet to vulgar. “But tonight, that's going to be you,” he said, pulling away, husky note in his voice.

Yoshi looked surprised to see him. He’d flirted with Kaito’s persona a time or two, but it was never serious, and it stopped when he’d met his girlfriend Ami.

“Reika-chan? Really?” Yoshi said, shaking his head. But there was no judgment in his tone, just amusement.

“What can I say, Yoshi-kun? I'm a bad, bad girl,” Kaito said, his eyes hooded, his smile wicked.

“Oh I know,” the bartender said with a laugh. “Hiro, you are one lucky man.”

 _You don't recognise the name?_ Kaito thought, as Shinichi's hand trailed down his side and gave his hip a tentative squeeze.

_No. Should I?_

_Yes, though they did keep it under wraps, from what I could tell. Key witness against your “organisation.” He and his PA weren’t at work today. Guess I know why._ Kaito ran his hand across the curve of Shinichi's hip to his firm bottom, lingering before settling on his lower back.

_If it’s an Org crime, this complicates things. Tanaka’s last words were “knew it was too good to be true.” and implicated a “them.” It would explain how the culprit had access to the poison._

_You don’t think they’re part of the syn—_ Shinichi kissed him again like he couldn't get enough of him, so Kaito cupped him with his free hand and gave him a quick grope for interrupting him, making Shinichi let out a squeak and pull him close.

 _No, too sloppy,_ Shinichi thought, blushing _. They tend not to get caught. Do I think they were someone’s hand? Yes. It wouldn’t be the first time._

Megure had had enough. “Stop before I arrest you both for public indecency!” Megure barked.

They pulled apart a fraction, but otherwise completely ignored him. “Handcuffs?” Shinichi asked, sounding intrigued, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together, wrapping the other around his waist. “Could be fun.” _Personal Assistant?_

“Tonight, my dear.” Kaito fingered his lip, his voice sultry. _Nakamura-san, the lady behind you._

“Promise?” he asked, a little breathless. _She did mention they work together._

“Promise,” Kaito answered. “I'm sorry for making you wait.” _Oh yes. She's not Org?_ “Let me make it up to you, lover.”

_Not if she was dating a Org 'rat.' Will she recognise you?_

_Detective,_ Kaito sent a pout over _. My disguise skills are flawless._

 _We’ll see,_ Shinichi said in good humour.

“Reika’s your girlfriend?” Yoshi said with a laugh, shaking his head. “I should have known. You’re definitely her type.”

 _What’s behind that playbill for_ The Mousetrap _? "_ Isn’t he just?” Kaito said, cuddling Shinichi's arm and popping his leg, trying to settle the arousal coursing through him before he got hard. It didn’t quite work, so he started running potential heist plans through his head, trying to distract himself with that poster that seemed out of place.

 _I have no clue,_ Shinichi said, _but I’m absolutely certain it wasn’t there before. Before Tanaka-san died, I mean._

“So mysterious! So manly!” Kaito said as he trailed his hand down Shinichi’s chest. “So protective~” He glanced over to Nakamura, expression soft, and gestured her over. The woman followed, glancing back at the man in the cap. Kaito looped his other arm around her and let go of Shinichi so he could lean over and whisper in her ear. “You all right?” he asked softly.

“Not really,” the woman stuttered, and well, Kaito couldn't blame her.

“Don't worry! Hiro’s got this,” Kaito whispered conspiratorially, “That's why they call him Hero!”

Shinichi groaned mentally at the pun. Outwardly, he scowled, and said “Rei-chan, you're ruining my image.”

Kaito opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Megure snapped, “And you're ruining my investigation!” at them both.

Kaito winced. He'd meant to be a distraction, but maybe it was a little much.

“I'm very sorry,” he said, meek and contrite, and he folded his hands together in front of his thighs and bowed deeply, back ramrod straight, head down.

-

Juuzou eyed the new arrival. Yamamoto's girlfriend, apparently named “Reika.” Her respectful bow and apology mollified him only slightly.

Hmm. Juuzou thought she might be jealous of the way Nakamura was clinging to Yamamoto, but she wasn’t at all. Yamamoto, even when kissing his girlfriend, had made sure to keep himself between Nakamura and Takahashi.  What did he know that Juuzou didn’t?

Juuzou looked over to Kobayashi. “Does she, in fact, work here?”

“She does, in fact, work here,” Reika said. “And can answer for herself. I’m Gotou Reika. I have a show every third Friday here at eight.”

“It’s true, Inspector,” Kobayashi said. “Reika’s a regular performer here.”

“I was supposed to meet Hiro here at six. He wanted to see me play tonight. I was a little late, and he gets worried.”

“You get worried,” Juuzou said. Yamamoto just grunted, back to his irascible self. Young couples these days. No respect.

“Reika can take care of herself, but she shouldn’t have to,” Yamamoto said, hands in his pockets.

“You stay away from the crime scene,” Juuzou warned, though they’d already photographed and gone through everything, save everyone's personal effects.

“Wouldn’t dream of touching it,” she said. “You okay, Yoshi?” she said, rubbing his shoulder.

“Been better,” Kobayashi admitted. “Me and Daisuke were never close, but I didn't expect—” he let out a slow breath.

“It's a terrible thing,” Reika said. “A cruel and terrible thing.”

Juuzou watched her for a long moment. Guess there was truth enough to their acquaintance. Though barging her way into a crime scene of all things…

Reika’s eyes flickered to a rat poster on the wall and she stared at it for a long moment, almost as if she was looking at it pointedly. Juuzou followed her gaze, but it only appeared slightly wrinkled and a little crooked.

“Kobayashi-san,” Juuzou said. “Do you remember what time Takahashi-san arrived?”

Kobayashi's eyes narrowed, and he loomed. “It's as Doctor Yamaguchi said. I wasn't keeping exact track. Probably minutes after they arrived. Not as long as quarter of an hour.”

“You're all ganging up on me,” Takahashi said. It was almost a whine.

“No, you're just an asshole,” Reika muttered.

Well, she wasn't _wrong_ , per se.

“You ordered a drink around five thirty-eight,” Kobayashi said. “I ran his bank card, so it will show the initial time on his tab,” he said to Juuzou. It was a lie, and not even a good one, which raised him higher in Juuzou's suspect list. But why was he so careless? He either wasn't afraid of getting caught or didn't do it.

“Takahashi-san. Why would you lie about something so obvious?” Juuzou had to ask.

“I forgot. It's not like I was keeping track. I just happened to come in at the same time, that's all.”

“They're all lying to some extent,” Yamamoto cut in.

Oh, not this _again._ But Juuzou was tired—no, exhausted—he wanted to cuddle with his wife, he wanted to sleep for a thousand years, he wanted a week off work that wasn't coming, so. Maybe his judgement was being affected, but what the hell.

He let out a loud, very audible sigh. “Yeah? Not you?”

“I'm a storyteller. Of course I lie. Not about this case, though.”

“Fine. Let's hear it.” Juuzou just wanted this case to be over with, and at this point, Yamamoto was the least of his headaches. Maybe it was his strong resemblance to Kudou Shinichi. Maybe it was the fact he was a writer like Kudou Yuusaku, even if it was only a hobby. Maybe it was the exhaustion talking, since all Juuzou wanted to do was go to sleep.

It couldn't hurt to hear him out, at least. All these outsiders...pah! But considering the corruption in his division, maybe there was a reason for the rise in numbers of these ‘self-styled’ detectives.

Yamamoto blinked, taken aback at Juuzou's permission to go ahead. It made him look much younger than twenty-two, and that only sharpened his resemblance to one Kudou Shinichi.

If it got him home sooner, fine. He'd let this look-alike take a crack at it.

He just hoped he didn’t regret it.

-

Pointing to Yamaguchi, Takahashi, and turning to Kiyomi and stepping away just a bit, Shinichi said, “These three are already more familiar with one another than you think.”

“Oh?” Megure said, motioning for him to continue.

Given the go ahead, Shinichi said, “It all leads back to Haido Hospital,” he said. “I'm not sure of the specifics, but I’m sure if you go through the paperwork, you’ll find that Yamaguchi has treated Kiyomi before.”

“Your man was on the phone with them outside,” Kaito remarked.

“‘Treated?’ she's an ER doctor,” Megure said.

“Exactly. I'm assuming she's the one that took care of Kiyomi after her miscarriage and was responsible for sending her to a specialist. That omission could be covered on Yamaguchi's end by patient-doctor confidentiality, but it doesn't really bring up why Kiyomi hid it.”

“Miscarriage?” Megure asked.

Kiyomi started shaking. Shinichi frowned, but it really had to be said. If she wouldn't do it, he had to.

“Not natural,” Shinichi said. “I'm sure it was something 'accidental’ like a blow to the stomach. Takahashi was the father, and most likely also the one responsible for the termination of the pregnancy.”

“Baseless accusations!” the man growled.

“H-how did you know?” Kiyomi said. Her face had rapidly paled as Shinichi spoke, and she was still trembling.

“Other than the fact that you flinch and your hand falls to your stomach any time he so much as looks at you? Your face is filled with blemishes, signs of hormonal changes, and also your bra cups are loose, I felt it when you brushed against me, signs of gaining and then rapidly losing weight in that area. I'd guess it was early second trimester, and that it happened between three and six weeks ago. You probably haven't had time to go shopping, since your breasts are still bigger than your old size, so you can't go back to your previous ones, but they're not quite big as they were during the pregnancy.”

Shinichi was keeping an eye on Takahashi. He was sweating now, under his cap, eyes flickering for a way out. Shinichi moved again, placing himself closer to Takahashi in case he got any ideas about Kiyomi. He didn't have to say anything to Kaito before he was doing the same for Yamaguchi.

“Doctor?” Megure said. “Is what he says true?”

Yamaguchi Minako nodded. “She came in for treatment for excessive bleeding after a 'fall down the stairs.’ I had my suspicions that it was self-terminated, and the injures appeared deliberate. I knew she worked with Daisuke, then. She wouldn't let her boyfriend at the time, this man,” she gestured to Takahashi, “into her room. She begged and pleaded for us not to let him in. I thought it was because Daisuke was the father and she didn't want him to know.”

“And did that change how you treated her?” Megure asked, warning in his tone.

“No. I'm a professional at work, no matter my personal feelings. It was the reason I broke things off with him, you know. That I thought he was the father.”

“So when Daisuke came in with her, it was a confirmation,” Shinichi said.

An officer came by, Shinichi handed what was on his person over and with a quick apology, the officer gave him a pat down. He'd noticed him making a circuit, but this really should have been done sooner.

“I thought,” Yamaguchi admitted. “Now these accusations don’t seem so baseless to me.” She seemed sad.

“Why didn't you say anything?” Megure asked.

“Would you have believed me?” Yamaguchi said. “I might as well have branded 'I’m the killer’ on my forehead.”

“She's still lying, you know,” Takahashi said. “We met several times. She chatted me up in the waiting room. We met together.”

“It wasn't chatting you up. I was merely hunting for information,” Yamaguchi said. “The lunch dates were a part of that.” She took a deep breath. “Daisuke came to the hospital to check on her. I hadn't known they worked together, much less he was her boss, and he—he was all over her.”

“So all signs pointed to affair,” Shinichi said.

“But it wasn't like that!” Kiyomi said. “He was...kind. We didn't start dating until two weeks after they broke up. Just a few days ago. He was miserable, and he was kind, and I thought maybe I could—” She twisted her hands. “It was silly, I guess, to think someone like me could help.”

“Kind?” Shinichi asked.

“He helped me move, did something so it wasn't under my name. It got him off my back. He wouldn't leave me alone.”

“‘Off your back?’ You disappeared on me, with most of my things and all my money, wouldn't answer my calls or mails.”

“You belittled me, hit me, told me I was worthless...well, I'm not, okay!” Kiyomi was growing hysterical. “I didn't want your baby, not when you did things like poke holes in the condoms, but when I finally started getting excited about being a mother, you had to take that away from me too!”

“Why didn't you go to the police?” Megure asked. “Your family?”

“For them to tell me they couldn't do anything unless he did something? Even though he already had?" Kiyomi raising her voice. “No thank you! The police don't help,” she said bitterly. “And shame my parents by being an unwed mother?”

“You could have said no,” Takahashi said. “You're the one came on all hot and started being icy.”

“Yeah, by wanting to keep my own life and my own friends and my own job and my own money!”

“It was a method of control. Of alienating you from them,” Shinichi said.

“Yeah, and when I started paying attention to my future child more than him, he took that away from me, too! Just like he took Daisuke! I knew that it was a bad idea to come here but he wouldn't listen, and now he's dead and it's all my fault!” she burst into tears, sobbing, overwhelmed.

“I'm not denying we got into arguments,” Takahashi said. “All couples do. But she's blowing things out of proportion. She always did that. Start unreasonable arguments when things were going just fine, then cry and scream like a spoiled brat when she didn't get her way. I'm not the first man she's manipulated and stolen from, just the latest in a long line of suckers.” He sniffed, looking at the place where Tanaka Daisuke had fallen. “Looks like he was, too.”

“We’ve collected their things, Inspector,” one of the other officers said, thankfully not Watanabe.

“All right,” Megure said, face grim. He looked towards the door, and Shinichi was sure he was wondering the same thing he was. Just what was taking Detective Takagi so long?

“You haven't already gone through our effects?” Shinichi asked, surprised. Megure looked irritated by the insinuation of incompetence, though he hadn't meant anything by it. They _were_ short on manpower, due to the several that reported to the Org, but that was hardly something to mention in front of an actual criminal.

Criminals, counting Kaito. Couldn't forget that, for all he was being quiet and just watching them. Shinichi had yet to decide how that made him feel. He’d accepted it, but. 

Out of Yamaguchi's tote came a stethoscope, a lab coat, a small paperback, what looked like a bottle of the painkiller acetaminophen, a set of glasses, a make-up kit, a sewing kit, money in several denominations (including loose change), a big set of keys, and a handheld gaming system.

Out of Kiyomi's much smaller bag came several toiletries, keys, a card case wallet, gum, face powder, a tube of lipstick, a ring, and a worn deck of cards. She seemed unnerved by the ring.

Neither of the women had anything in their pockets or hidden in their clothes.

Shinichi just had Hiroto's driver's license and several thousand yen in a small wallet, his crumpled pack of cigarettes, and a key to the apartment.

Kobayashi had a lot of miscellaneous bar things such as straws and money from his apron, a large set of keys, and an overstuffed wallet with credit cards and bank cards and money and receipts. A photo of a woman.

Takahashi had his ID, cards, a few hundred yen in a wallet, his camera with associated “sensitive equipment” in a camera bag, a short pocket knife, powdered with faint white dust, found in the lining of said bag, and four keys on a ring.

“Where's Dai’s attaché case?” Yoshio said, looking around. “Was it taken with him?”

Officer Tome, who had come over and was examining the contents of what they had on them, shook his head. “We found no case.”

That had Shinichi straightening. Odd.

“He always carried his attaché with him,” Yoshio said.

“He did,” Kiyomi said, blinking, eyes red-rimmed. “He had it here with him, right by his feet.”

Even though they didn’t go into work today? Interesting.

That bit of information had Megure barking orders for the unoccupied officers to find it. Several minutes later, it was still missing.

 _I’m going to do it,_ Kaito thought. _I can’t stand this. I practically told him where it was!_

_Inspector Megure’s just been overworked lately, give him a minute._

In the end, though, it was Kaito who found a tan leather attaché case, carrying it in both hands in front of his thighs, shoulders sagging a bit as if it were heavy. Though since Shinichi's shoulder didn't twinge, it was probably an act. “Is this what you’re looking for, boys? I found it in the most ridiculous place~”

Takahashi blanched.

“Behind a _Mousetrap_ poster in a brand new hole in the wall. Isn’t that so silly?” Kaito tilted his head. “It’s almost as if someone were trying to hide it.” He cut his eyes at Takahashi Ichiro. “I wonder who that could have been.”

Inspector Megure was unimpressed as Kaito handed it over.

But as he opened the case, and then the wooden cigar humidor that was detailed in pure wrought gold, Shinichi got the last piece of evidence he needed, and smirked.

Tanaka had kept his cigars in their cellophane wrapping. The plant based product, although it looked like plastic wrap, was semipermeable and not airtight; the wrappers were looser and more wrinkled than they should be, even so. Not all of them. Shinichi had suspicions why. A distortion existed in the way they lay; they weren’t uniform, and one was placed by itself to the side. A forensic analyst photographed the evidence, then lifted several. The bottom of one, the one that looked like it had been rewrapped, had a salty looking film, barely perceptible.

If there were no fingerprints or traces of DNA it was all circumstantial, but why hide it otherwise? It was definitely them, and unearthing the hidden evidence could lead to a confession.

Shinichi opened his mouth to speak when Officer Tome said, “The pill bottle, sir, tests positive. This isn't acetaminophen, though it looks like there are some actual pills underneath,” he said, holding it up.

“All right. Take Doctor Yamaguchi into custody,” Megure said. “I think the evidence speaks for itself.”

“What, no! I didn't kill Daisuke—” she said as an officer twisted her arms behind her to arrest her.

Shinichi kicked his shoe. “Aren't you being a little hasty, Inspector?” he said, voice light.

Megure narrowed his eyes. “She has the poison, and you said yourself she was trying to pick up the cigar.”

“Isn't it a little too convenient, though?” Shinichi said, hand in his pocket.

 _Watch your face_ , Kaito thought blithely. _Body language. You're reading a little too much like Shinichi._

Shinichi thought about Kaito's near-death experience, and his face hardened, then blanked, slouching a bit.

 _Better,_ Kaito said.

“The method was poison,” Shinichi said, walking closer to Megure, “And while statistically women are more likely to use passive methods of murder, that is nowhere near a guarantee." Not quite accurate, but he was pretending to be a layman. "The culprit is obviously Takahashi.”

Megure let out a sigh. “Just because he's a terrible person does not mean he did it.”

“Are you blind?” Shinichi said darkly, derisively, hoping it wasn't too much as Megure clenched his teeth. “If Yamaguchi were to kill anyone, it would have more than likely been Kiyomi. She wanted to get back together with him, not revenge on him for dumping her. She can’t do that if he’s dead. It wasn't her. Not only that, she’s a medical ‘professional’ as she’s mentioned herself. I’m sure she would have been less than obvious about it. Having knowledge of how to put someone together in stressful situations gives her a fine base on how to take them apart. So why was the poison just in her bag? It’s certainly small enough to secrete away, and emergency medical personnel are the kind to keep their heads cool under pressure. If anyone knows she regularly takes medicine for stress headaches, it would be easy enough to plant.”

“Do you have anything more than suspicion?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Though I wasn’t sure about the actual method until the case was found. Take another look at those cigars. What do you see?”

“They’re hand rolled and wrapped in cellophane?”

“Hand rolled, but machine wrapped in cellophane, and except for a few are uniform. Not only that, but look at the one with the very crinkled wrapper, the one that looks like it’s been unwrapped and rewrapped, placed to the side, there?”

Megure grunted, so Shinichi continued. “If you hold it up to the light, you’ll see there’s a small powder like film. I’m certain you’ll find a positive trace on the outside there. It was, I assume, in greater concentration. But some cyanide salts are deliquescent; they’ll dissolve in air given enough time, and cellophane is used to wrap cigars instead of plastic because it breathes. Not enough that it won’t leave a trace, but certainly enough to be near invisible.”  

“But there was no cyanide on the cigar itself,” Megure asked, confused, even as he waved for the analyst to do his magic on the poorly wrapped one.

“No, because by then, he discovered another method, since this one didn’t seem to work. Hydrogen cyanide can be liquid at room temperature; when it’s heated, it turns into a colorless gas. Inhalation also kills faster than absorption through the skin. The outsides may be devoid of traces, but I’m certain the insides of them are soaked with it, just waiting for heat to turn it into gas, probably injected.”

Shinichi looked over at a surge in emotion, It was almost more than he could bear. He felt Kaito's admiration and something akin to arousal grow with every point he made, which made it hard to focus on explaining his deduction. It made him restless, impatient, antsy. Shinichi shifted, swallowed heavily, and continued.

“Not only that, but from what I observed, Daisuke did something unusual for an expensive cigar smoker: he inhaled the smoke, rather than just tasting it. The person who killed him was familiar with that fact. The inhalation would localise the hydrogen cyanide gas and give him a much higher dose than anyone around him, but if there did happen to be any innocent bystanders affected, you didn’t care, did you?” Shinichi said, slamming his gloved palm on the table, ignoring the sharp burst of desire directed his way from Kaito.

“I never met the man until tonight!” Takahashi raged.

“No, but you had an ulterior motive in your meetings with Yamaguchi. You learned about your “new” rival through her rants, but she gave out a lot more than that, hmm?” Shinichi said, not letting up. He kept his volume low, but filled it with command. "She thought she was getting information on you, but you manipulated her into thinking what you wanted her to think, while all the time using her information to your own ends!"

“His questions did seem pointed, but I never thought—” Yamaguchi turned her head, looking down, shaking.

“No, what reasonable person would, but it was a good opportunity for him to learn about several things. Kiyomi, this bar…” Shinichi trailed off, voice still sharp. “And you didn’t even try to hide the vandalising of the wall behind _The Mousetrap_ poster, did you? You didn't have time! That’s not cyanide they found on the knife hidden in the lining of your camera bag, it’s calcium sulfate dihydrate from the wallboard. All that does is just prove you’re the one that did it. Even if there are no fingerprints on the cigar case, or on the pill bottle, there will be on the attaché case and on the knife. Who else would have a reason? You had it all planned, didn’t you?”

Takahashi didn’t answer.

“But the one thing you weren’t expecting was me. I called for the police and medical help and immediately shut down the crime scene so you couldn’t escape. You had to find a place to stash the case until you could come back with it, and while we were concerned with, oh, I don’t know, trying to save a man’s life, you hid the case in the wall, concerned with trying to save your own skin!”

“Officer Tome, verify that claim about the cigar!” Megure barked. The analyst put on a mask, pulled out some small tools, and carefully cut the stub in half, then tested it.

“It’s positive, sir.”

Megure nodded and said, “We already have enough to hold him for further investigation,” and gestured to another officer to handcuff Takahashi.

But the photographer, cornered and angry and aware the game was over, was already moving, pulling Megure's pistol out and running towards the door, aiming the gun at Kiyomi, and by extension, Shinichi.

Shinichi looked for a nice spherical object; cover or no, he couldn't let him escape—

But then Kaito rushed past him, dodged the firing gun by knocking his hand up and _pounced._

There was no other word for it.

He pounced, crimson heels and all. Shinichi didn't want to think about what that kind of pressure would do to his ankles.

His gown flared out and back, streaming behind him, the inertia keeping it flowing through the air.

 _I am_ so _tired of people shooting at me_ echoed in Shinichi's head.

He knocked him down by jumping up and flipping over him, putting his weight on Takahashi’s shoulders, and kneeing his back, using his weight to bring him down and pin him to the floor, wrenching his hands to the small of his back. Kaito only rose when he was sure an officer had him cuffed, dusting himself off and pulling his mirror from Shinichi's pocket, which he hadn't even felt him place inside it.

He straightened out his dress and then checked to make sure everything stayed where it should have been.

Not for the first time, Shinichi realised Kaito had _legs_. Toned, perfectly sculpted legs. All the heels did were show them off, and to great effect. As Kaito moved like poetry, one had peeked out of the high split in his dress, and it was driving Shinichi mad.

Shinichi licked his lips. He really, really liked that dress.

Judging by Kaito's secret smile and the way he cut his eyes at Shinichi, he knew.

 _Kaito,_ Shinichi thought _. I thought you were supposed to be good at maintaining a low profile_.

_No, I said I was good at the art of deception. I never said anything about keeping a low profile. Or did I? Eh. Besides, if they do any fingerprinting or deep investigation into our identities, we’re screwed to hell anyway. Might as well have a little fun, right?_

Shinichi wasn't the only one with a dropped jaw.

Megure recovered first. “While suspicion and circumstantial evidence alone would not have guaranteed an arrest, your actions just now certainly have,” he said, truly angry. “It remains to be seen whether you are guilty of Tanaka-san’s murder, but I can think of little reason else you would make a break for it. While not quite a confession, we have enough for a good case of attempted murder and assault just now,” Megure continued. “Is there anything you'd like to tell me?”

Takahashi said nothing, but his eyes said everything with a glare fierce enough to melt glass.

Detective Takagi came back babbling with most of the information Shinichi had talked about; the phone call had been so long because several of the other medical professionals had been keeping an eye on the gossip, and it had played out mostly as Shinichi had said, most of their lunch meetings taking place in the hospital mess.

The cyanide had been stolen using Yamaguchi’s credentials. He _had_ been attempting to frame her.

He, alongside a cadre of officers, would be escorting Takahashi san as a high-flight risk while Megure finished up here.

Both Kiyomi and Yamaguchi thanked him effusively, though really Shinichi hadn’t done much. He let them have their say, alongside Yoshio, who gave him a sharp nod.

It was way too much attention, too much under the spotlight, especially in disguise, and Shinichi couldn’t help but feel a little trapped.

The minute they said the other suspects were free to go, and the bar freed of law enforcement for the most part, Kaito plastered himself to Shinichi’s back. The feeling of his breast forms against his back made Shinichi stiffen, swallowing.

“Hiro,” Kaito murmured. “I can't wait anymore,” he whined, panting hot in his ear. Shinichi took a deep breath. Yeah, that was probably another negative about the mental link. He could feel Kaito's arousal, and it was feeding into his own, making it stronger, harder to control. Kaito pressed his lips against his neck, touching his pulse with the slightest bit of tongue.

No one was looking, but Shinichi still reddened. He let Kaito guide him through the people, the feeling building.

Kaito forced him back through the door into the women's room, and Shinichi finally had an idea of what Kaito was doing.  “Reika!” he hissed. _Our cover, Kaito!_

 _Don't care. Need you_ **_now._ **

Shinichi was in trouble. The overwhelming feeling was making both of them heady and beyond reckless. 

All pretenses fell as soon as they were out of sight.

The room was small and mostly western in design, sleek and monochrome modern with a room-length mirror over a series of steel sinks, facing a white porcelain tiled wall, separating the sinks from about four dark stalls.

Kaito lifted him and put him on the black quartz ledge. Shinichi barely fit between two sinks.

“Wha—Ka—?” Shinichi choked the muttering of Kaito's name off, hoping it still sounded like ‘Reika’ as Kaito yanked off his long gloves. A few tiny glittering beads fell to the floor.

Kaito surged up and kissed him deep, hands ghosting over his skin, tugging his shirt up and caressing his chest underneath it, pinching a nipple as Shinichi jumped at the unexpected touch.

Shinichi shrugged off his jacket, biting and ripping the glove from his hand, slipping it through the split of his dress, and falling to the back of Kaito's thigh, tracing the lacy top of his stockings, over the suspender strap holding them up to the curve of his ass, where he started kneading. Kaito was wearing tie side underwear.

Fuck, that was hot. Shinichi wanted to play with the ribbons, untie them with his teeth.

“Why the hell did I put you in leather?” Kaito moaned against his lips, cupping Shinichi's half-hard cock, stroking him through the hide. The leather hardly hid the growing bulge. It was almost painful, how tight the trousers were getting against him, but it didn’t stop Kaito from fondling him. The friction hurt; he was straining against the cage of the leather, but Kaito still kept at it. Shinichi wasn’t wearing any underwear; couldn't, with how tight the trousers were.

“What are you doing?” Shinichi breathed as Kaito unzipped him, pulling him out, stroking him. “H-here? _Ah_! _Ah_ -a-anyone could come in!”

“Tell me to stop, precious,” Kaito said, looking up at him, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me to stop,” he repeated, “and I will.”

Oh, but his hands were heated, skilled in the way they touched him with the right amount of pressure, those long fingers curled around him pumping him. Shinichi said nothing, just breathed in sharply, spreading his legs a little wider, and Kaito took that as permission.

Kaito kissed down, down, down as he worked. From the sharp cut of his jaw to the gentle curve of his throat, the slope of his shoulder to the jut of his collarbone and down, nipping and sucking at his nipples before tracing his tongue between his ribs, dipping it in the hollow of his stomach before nibbling at the crest of his hip where it stuck out over the low-rise leather.

His cock was right next to Kaito's mouth. The idea of it, the idea of here where anyone could walk in was oddly exciting. Shinichi licked his lips and swallowed. He  _wanted_ it. No, he _needed_ it.

Kaito kissed Shinichi’s cock sweetly, lapping at the head. Shinichi arched his back, the sensation almost too much. “I’ve been waiting for this. I've been craving it. You just don’t know how much.” He licked a hot stripe from base to tip, where a little precome had already dribbled out from his attention. Kaito focused on it, licking him clean. “Mmmm, you taste so good, lover.” Kaito still kept up the feminine voice, but knowing it was Kaito underneath all that, _god—_ it was arousing, exhilarating. He blew on it and and Shinichi shivered.

Shinichi's breath picked up as Kaito tugged at his trousers, pulling them down so Shinichi was sitting naked on the cool quartz. Shinichi leaned back against the mirror, watching Kaito work.

He spent a while there, just teasing him with the flick of the tip of his tongue across the tip of his head, kissing him, rubbing him with his lips; never quite taking him into his mouth, but working him with his lips all the same.

It was maddening.

Long dark hair falling out of its pins. Tight slinky dress emphasising his figure and the curve of his slender hips. Red, red lips surrounding him. Blue eyes holding his as Kaito took him into his mouth, concentrating on the tip, licking the slit, massaging the glans, taunting Shinichi with his tongue as he worked the trousers off his body.

Shinichi _throbbed_.

Kaito spread Shinichi’s legs wide with his other hand, flipping the cap off a small bottle of lubricant with his thumb and squeezing some out between Shinichi’s thighs. He felt it run down him and shivered at the sensation.

It was cold, and Kaito traced a finger down his perineum, pressing gently, teasing him. It was cold, and his mouth was hot, and his fingers trailed down, down, down.

If someone interrupted them here, Shinichi’d be ruined. Hell, they both would. But Shinichi was gone too far to care. He just wanted Kaito, and he wanted Kaito _now_. Let them come.

Even though he could feel Shinichi's impatience, Kaito teased him, playing with his balls, under them, running his slick fingers over the sensitive nerve endings, making Shinichi squirm. Then he entered him quick with two fingers, curling and pressing up against his inner wall, causing Shinichi to jolt back against the mirror. He did it once, twice, keeping Shinichi's cock tight in his mouth, moving with Shinichi.

Shinichi almost came from the concentrated effort, but then Kaito pulled off, giving Shinichi time to recover, leaving his fingers inside him. His cock bobbed as he panted hard, wet with precome and dripping with saliva, dark and pink and glistening. “Need you. Need you filling my mouth. Need you filling me but that's going to have to wait,” Kaito murmured against him before taking him in his mouth again, increasing the intensity, sucking hard, working him fast with his hot, wet mouth. _Gonna ride you till you pop._

 _“Ah_!” Shinichi panted, the words having a profound effect on him. Loud rough breathing, soft moans as Shinichi tried to keep himself quiet.

Kaito wasn't having any of it, hitting that spot inside him relentlessly until Shinichi, unable to help himself, let out a loud, long moan. _Yeah that's it, that's it, need you to come for me, c’mon beautiful, don't hold back, scream for me._

 _“Please_ ,” he whimpered. _W-weren't you the one saying we didn’t need to bring any attention to ourselves?_ He could barely even get the thought out, couldn't help but rock his hips as Kaito kept pressure on him with his mouth, moving with him.

_I love making you come apart. Come on darling, be loud, fuck my mouth. You're so gorgeous like this._

Shinichi thrust forward at the words, again and again and again and Kaito took it all, pulling him deeper, deeper deeper each time Shinichi rocked, until it was more than Shinichi could stand, until with one last thrust, he'd swallowed his entire cock.

“You just—” Shinichi choked out. Hot and tight and wet, he almost lost it right there. He filled him completely, straining against his mouth.  And Shinichi felt it. Felt himself. It was dulled, overwhelmed by pure euphoria, the desire to please, but it was there.

Oh _hell._

 _Use me,_ Kaito thought at him, massaging his balls with one hand, thrusting into him with the fingers of the other. _Take me, love._ Kaito moaned around him, hoarse and throaty and shameless, and the vibrations rocked Shinichi to his core.

Shinichi lost strength in his arms as Kaito massaged him from the inside, falling back against the mirror. “ _I can't_ —“ he turned his head and looked in the side of the mirror that curled around the wall. He could see himself, flushed and wrecked, rocking into Kaito’s mouth, could see himself buried to the hilt in Kaito, could see Kaito working him furiously with his fingers. “Please, oh _oh—_ ” he cried out.

Kaito pulled off him, ran his tongue over the head. Again, Kaito took him all the way down effortlessly. Again. Again. Again, Shinichi's cries devolving into nonsense, growing louder and louder.

He came for what seemed like ages as Kaito milked him, whited out in an intense cascade of pleasure. It was dulled just a bit, the sensation of coming was his and his alone. Gold flickered around the edges of his eyes, and still he felt Kaito's thoughts and emotions more clearly than normal, but it was muted.

Kaito pulled off, chin wet, nuzzling against his thigh. When he came to, Shinichi still felt restricted and pained, though he was now soft and still half-naked. Shinichi pulled his handkerchief out of his coat pocket and wiped Kaito's face gently, sweetly, letting his hand linger.

He loved him. God, he loved him. Shinichi kissed those bruised lips, that wonderful, perfect throat as if in reward. “Reika?” he ventured out loud, thinking of the pain.

He still felt vaguely connected; Kaito cresting on the edge of orgasm, and still painfully, painfully aroused. It was a strange swooping sensation, like standing on the top edge of a skyscraper looking down.

 **_Never_ ** _get an erection while tucked,_ Kaito said with a bit of humour, gesturing to his pelvic area. _The sacrifices I make for you, Shinichi~_

Kaito moved to an open sink, pulling away reluctantly, washing his hands.

“Do you want me to—”

Kaito shook his head. “It can wait,” he said, fixing his wig. 

The feeling of arousal was already fading, so Shinichi believed him. Right, because even now after, he still looked flat. Wrecked and rumpled, sure, but Shinichi still couldn’t tell. It was impressive. “Wait until we get home,” Shinichi said. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Home?” Kaito said a little hoarsely, a strange note in his voice Shinichi couldn't quite decipher, especially with the myriad swirl of emotions still overwhelming his mind.

“The apartment,” Shinichi said, brow furrowed.

“Home,” Kaito repeated, warmth swimming at the bottom of his stomach, and Shinichi finally got it, his pleasure at Shinichi calling it home, Shinichi's happiness meeting it.

Shinichi swallowed thickly, and felt a dull ache, so he touched Kaito's throat with the back of his hand. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“Nothing I couldn't handle,” Kaito said with a hoarse laugh. “But your face. Exquisite,” he said, cupping his cheek. “Such a rare, precious thing,” Kaito murmured, leaning to kiss him. “It was a privilege to see it.”

Shinichi ducked his head before he could, hopping down from the sink. He tugged at his trousers, pulling them up. Shinichi felt overwrought; it almost felt like Kaito was still inside him, that he was still inside Kaito.

Kaito’s hand trailed down to his jaw, and he turned Shinichi's head so he was looking at him. “No need to feel embarrassed. You were lovely.”

“I was—” Shinichi couldn't finish. Noisy. _In public._ Not thinking. Shameless. He'd enjoyed it far, far too much. The way he'd looked in the mirror...it was hard to believe he was capable of looking like that. _That_ was really what he looked like when they were doing that? That's what Kaito saw?

“The word you’re looking for is perfect,” Kaito said, and kissed him.

Shinichi nested his fingers in his wig, kissing back, but then he pulled away and said, “I feel like I'm losing myself.”

“Shinichi—” Kaito began, reaching for him, but Shinichi headed towards the door, unable to stop his disquiet from broadcasting. Kaito tried to hide his hurt, but it still leaked through, and that made Shinichi feel even guiltier.

It wasn't even anything Kaito had done, either. It was too hard to explain why he felt the way he did, even in emotions.

Where was the Shinichi that faced the thief on the rooftop? Not here in this bar, and it was more than the disguise.

Shinichi had changed. He couldn't even recognise himself. It wasn't that he'd just done that. It wasn't even that he liked it.

It was that a week ago he wouldn't have even dreamed of being in disguise or consorting with the thief outside of very specific circumstances.

Those strict social rules of propriety were as good as gone with Kaito around, and he couldn't blame it on the jewel anymore, not with their increased control of its effects.

Even Conan had been him, most of the time.

Just who was Kudou Shinichi now? He didn't know, anymore.

“Hiro…”

Shinichi couldn't help himself. He flinched.

“Ah,” Kaito said with understanding, but he gave him space, only squeezing his arm in a reassuring grip as he passed by him and left the room. “It gets easier.”

Thing of it was, Shinichi wasn't sure he wanted it to. Conan had been bad enough.

They left the room. A woman nursing her drink nearby stared at them for a long moment, slight blush on her face, before looking away.

Oh no. Someone really had heard him!

She was politely not acknowledging Shinichi's loud cries, but Yoshio, who was cleaning up some broken glass nearby, had apparently heard as well, since he let out a wolf whistle and gave them a thumbs up.

Kaito bowed western style with a flourish. Shinichi just fought a blush and tried to stay in character, tried to keep his face expressionless. It was nearly impossible. He hoped Megure's team never found out he was Hiroto. They weren't arrested for public lewdness though, so that was a plus.

And at least the bar was near empty now, Yoshio moving to talk to one of the last customers, settling her tab, the bouncer clocking out. The law enforcement officers were already gone, Megure having just left.

“Are you going to close up early?” Kaito asked as he shuffled the last people out of the bar.

“Might as well,” Yoshio said with a sigh.

Kaito's face fell, and he pouted. “Hiro, I wanted you to see me perform.”

“I can stay a little longer, if you'd like,” Yoshio said. “It's no trouble. You put the bastard away. I can’t believe it. All that.” He laughed bitterly. “It’s disgusting. I don't—we weren't close, but he was still family. And I have a feeling that we won't be seeing a lot of business in the future. Regardless of the fact his d-death wasn't caused by anything here, you know how word gets around about things like this.”

Kaito thanked him softly, but Shinichi frowned. “If it's no trouble, will you answer a question for me?” he asked.

 _Kaito?_ _Is the bar bugged?_

 _I don’t know, but you can talk freely,_  Kaito thought at him. _I set up a short range disposable jammer when I retrieved the case_. _Better safe than sorry._

Yoshio blinked. “Anything.”

“Did you know anything about what your cousin was doing at his workplace?”

Yoshio shifted, worrying at his hands, a sure sign he knew something. “Are you sure you’re not an undercover cop?”

Shinichi ignored the question. “I have reason to believe that Tanaka-san's murder was a hit, and Takahashi was manipulated into killing him.”

Yoshio paled. “It can't be. Dai wouldn't—” He shut up. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

 _Lie_ , Kaito thought at him, sitting down and rearranging his skirts.

Shinichi agreed. “It's how they work. No trace. If you know anything else, you're already dead anyway, whether you told the police or not,” Shinichi pointed out.

“Reika, you're a part of this?” He asked, looking a little betrayed.

“Less than you think,” Kaito said. “The fact that we’re dating and I work here has nothing to do with Hiro’s interest. He really was just here to see me perform. The rest is coincidence.”

“I had no idea Tanaka would be here. Believe me, he would have been much more use to me alive,” Shinichi said.

“Because that doesn't make you sound creepy, darling.”

“We lost a lead today,” Shinichi said with a frown.

“Then what, are you both some kind of agents? Spies? Secret police?” Then he swallowed and said, “Yakuza, foreign group?”

“Oh no, not me,” Kaito said, holding his hands up. “I’m just an entertainer.” Shinichi noticed he didn't specify the type.

“’Just’ an entertainer? With those moves?” Yoshio said, brows raised.

“Would you believe circus escapee?” Kaito said, and they both laughed, though Yoshio’s was weak.

“I think you watch too many movies,” Shinichi said irritably. “If you really must know, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I couldn't let them get away with what they were doing. I can't let them do it to other people.”

“A vigilante, then,” Yoshio said, and then he relaxed. “That’s a motive I can understand.”

“What?” Shinichi said stupidly.

“Taking the law into your own hands, aren't you?”

“I have no problems working with the police,” Shinichi said, but inside he was a little unsettled. “I’m not a vigilante. For all you know, I could be an investigative reporter writing an exposé.”

“Are you?” Yoshio asked.

Shinichi didn’t answer that either.

“You saw through everything. Had you been the culprit, I don't think they would have ever figured it out,” Yoshio said with a knowing look.

“Someone would. No one gets away with everything. It was a simple case; they would have eventually connected everything.”

“Eventually being the key word. By then, that rat bastard could have already escaped. Ami visits me here sometimes. What if he’d fixated on her?”

Shinichi hummed.

“So you do know something,” Kaito said.

“Not so much about his workplace, but he kept talking about a man named Dexter, that's all I know,” Yoshio said. “Said he had a meeting with him this upcoming Sunday morning at the Oceanview Hotel in Yokohama. Something about a spirit trial or some shit, I didn’t really understand it.”

“Anything else?”

“It was weird. Just conversation, no big. Normally Dai doesn’t buy into all that mystical shit. It stuck out to me because of that. He said he had people following him. I didn’t think to bring it up during the police’s investigation because he said he was joking, but,” he trailed off.

“Thank you, Yoshi, that’s more than enough,” Kaito said.

“Yeah, it’s very much appreciated,” Shinichi said.

“They won’t go after Ami, will they?” Yoshi asked.

“You didn’t say anything on record. If they don’t know about it, they can’t do anything,” Shinichi said. “I’d still be circumspect in anything you say or anything else he’s ever given you.”

“He told me they were bad people. Not to get involved. He said he didn’t know until he was too far in. It wasn’t in as many words, but me and Dai, we got each other. Anyway, Dai may have worked for some bad people, but he was a good man. If anything I tell you leads to you getting the bastards, then all the better.” Yoshio looked down, still picking at his hands. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. We weren’t that close, but he was still family.”

“Hiro will get them, Yoshi. Then you and Ami can sleep well at night.”

Yoshio ran his hands over his cheeks, scrubbing at his face. Shinichi had the suspicion he was crying, confirmed when it glistened in the dim light.

“He didn’t deserve it,” Yoshi said. “No like that.”

“No,” Shinichi said. “No one ever does.”

“Hey,” Kaito said, cupping Shinichi’s cheek. “Let me do what we came here for.”

Kaito moved and sat down at the piano, playing a few unassociated chords. Then he started on a soft jazzy number that echoed through the room. He played the piano with the ease of a thousand performances, it seemed to Shinichi, and he couldn't help but be enraptured in how his long gloved fingers danced across the keys, scarlet against ivory—a splash of blood over bone.

His voice as he sang was rich and low; still feminine, but closer to his actual timbre.

It was beautiful, even as he was singing about hurt and heartbreak. Not only that, he seemed to glow in the dim light.

Shinichi felt his heart tug at Kaito's sorrowful mein. He was the kind of person that really gave himself to his performances, then. Something he could have deduced from his acting—the maid came to mind—but Shinichi didn't realise how much of a method performer he actually was.

He also didn't realise he was watching Kaito with a soft, dopey smile, but Yoshio sure did, elbowing Shinichi in the side.

Kaito finished his song, then looked at Shinichi.

“It's not exactly what I was planning on playing for the rest of my program this evening,” Kaito said to his audience of two, “But I think it fits.”

Then he started picking out a song that even Genta would know, winking and gesturing for Shinichi to sit on the bench with him.

With some trepidation, Shinichi sat, matching Kaito's fingering. _The_ _Flea Waltz_ was simple to play, and one Shinichi certainly knew as well.

The tempo of the song upped, and so did their speed, fingers flying across the keys. Like the sound of a cat running across a piano.

Then, they stopped in unison, looking at each other with wide grins.

Kaito started picking out another tune. Shinichi knew this one too, but Kaito was playing a more complex arrangement than Shinichi was used to. He went through it for sixteen counts, and that was more than enough for Shinichi to memorise and follow the new, robust arrangement and start playing the harmony himself, while Kaito picked up the melody.

A classic piano duet.

_“Heart and soul / I fell in love with you / heart and soul /  the way a fool would do / madly / because you held me tight / and stole a kiss in the night…”_

Shinichi didn't know the middle progression as Kaito continued to sing, but Kaito sent the fingering over their mental link and covered for any missteps in his playing beautifully, beaming at Shinichi as he played.

“... _Now I see / what one embrace can do / Look at me / It's got me loving you / Madly / That little kiss you stole / held all my heart and soul…_

“Thief,” Kaito murmured.

“Isn't that my line?” Shinichi said, low, and leaned over and kissed him, only to pull back at Yoshio's wolf whistle.

He was clapping loudly. “So you do actually play,” he said. “I thought it was an act.”

Shinichi blinked. “Of course I play. Maybe not as well as Reika, but I get by.”

“‘I get by,’” Yoshio said, shaking his head. “You more than get by. You two are really something.”

“I guess? What, you thought I was making up _Deep Dive_? Reika’s the heart and soul. It wouldn't exist without her.”

“I never pegged you for a sop,” Yoshio said, grinning.

“You're always a dear, Yoshi,” Kaito said. “I’m sorry this happened. I hope that things get better for you.”

The man let out a sigh. “My uncle...this is going to kill him.”

“Thanks again for the information. It's going to a good place,” Shinichi said.

“Of that I have no doubt,” Yoshio said. “I’m gonna close up now. You both stay safe. It's a crazy world out there.”

Shinichi nodded in acknowledgement.

“See you, Yoshi. You good for next month?”

“Of course. I always love hearing you play,” Yoshio said. “Bring Hiro back too, alright?”

Kaito waved in acknowledgement.

A gust of strong, cool wind blew in as Kaito opened the door, and he shivered, so Shinichi took off his jacket and offered it to him.

Kaito blinked in astonishment. “Really?” _That much into it?_

 _Not_ _really_. Shinichi scratched the side of his cheek, then looked away. “You looked cold.”

A wave of gratitude. “Dexter, huh?” Kaito asked him as they stepped on the pavement.

“Yeah,” Shinichi said. “We have our next target.”

**Author's Note:**

> Notes on timeline: Canonically, the DC manga has occurred over less than a year (yay, comic book time); For plot purposes, in this fic, the Tropical Land visit happened during Golden Week (29/4 - 6/5) early in their second year. Since the school year starts in April and ends in March, and this fic begins in the second week of March, that puts this DC timeline roughly around one year, ten months.
> 
> Notes on what's considered canon: Generally it goes MK Manga ← DC Manga ← DC Movies ← DC Anime ← MK Anime ← MK Specials ← OVAs ← Live Action, with the exception, of course, of OVA 4 being the (mostly) fic canon version of the Crystal Mother heist. Just in case anyone was curious. If an event specific to one canon doesn't directly contradict any other canon in this order, it's generally assumed to have happened.


End file.
